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I 

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MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE  RIGHT 
HONORABLE  RICHARD  BRINSLEF  SHERI- 
DAN. By  Thomas  Moore.  Two  volumes  in 
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THE  LIFE  OF  THE  RIGHT  HONORABLE 
JOHN  PHILPOT  CURRAN,  late  Master  of  the 
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MEMOIRS 


OF  THE 


LIFE  OF  THE  RIGHT  HONORABLE 


— BY— 

THOMAS  MOORE. 


TWO  'VOI-.XJlivdlES  ZTT  OZTE 


CHICAGO : 

Union  Catholic  Publishing  Company. 


MDCCCLXXXII. 


.viANUFACTURED  BY 

Donohue  & Henneberry, 


CHICAGO 


s 5 5 2 ^ rr? 
I 


TO 


GEORGE  BRYAN,  Esq., 


THIS  WORK  IS  INSCRIRF.i), 


BY 


UIS  SINCERE  AND  AFFECTIONATE  FRIEND. 


THOMAS  MOORE. 


PKEFACE 


The  first  four  Chapters  of  this  work  were  written  near- 
ly seven  years  ago.  My  task  was  then  suspended  during 
a long  absence  from  England ; and  it  was  only  in  the 
course  of  the  last  year  that  I applied  myself  seriously  to 
the  completion  of  it. 

To  my  friend,  Mr.  Charles  Sheridan,  whose  talents  and 
character  reflect  honor  upon  a name,  already  so  distin- 
guished, I am  indebted  for  the  chief  part  of  the  materials 
upon  which  the  following  Memoirs  of  his  father  are 
founded.  I have  to  thank  him,  not  only  for  this  mark  of 
confidence,  but  for  the  delicacy  with  which,  though  so 
deeply  interested  in  the  subject  of  my  task,  he  has  re- 
frained from  all  interference  with  the  execution  of  it;  — 
neither  he,  nor  aii}’^  other  person,  beyond  the  Printing- 
office,  having  ever  read  a single  sentence  of  the  work. 

I mention  this,  in  order  that  the  responsibility  of  any 
erroneous  views  or  indiscreet  disclosures,  with  which  I 
shall  be  thought  chargeable  in  the  course  of  these  pages, 
may  not  be  extended  to  others,  but  rest  solely  with  my- 
self. 


(5) 


VI 


PREFACE. 


The  details  of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  early  life  were  obliging- 
ly communicated  to  me  by  his  younger  sister,  Mrs.  Le- 
fanu,  to  whom,  and  to  her  highly  gifted  daughter,  I offer 
my  best  thanks  for  the  assistance  which  they  have  afford- 
ed me. 

The  obligations,  of  a similar  nature,  which  I owe  to 
the  kindness  of  Mr  "William  Linley,  Doctor  Bain,  Sir 
Burgess,  and  others,  are  acknowledged,  with  due  grati- 
tude, in  my  remarks  on  their  respective  communications 


CONTENTS  TO  VOL.  I. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Birth  and  Education  of  Mr.  Sheridan. — His  First  Attempts  in  Litera- 


ture  9 

CHAPTER  II. 

Duels  with  ]\Ir.  Mathews. — Marriage  with  Miss  Linley.  ...  45 

CHAPTER  III. 


Domestic  Circumstances. — Fragments  of  Essays  found  among  his  Papers. — 
Comedy  of  The  Rivals.’^ — Answer  to  Taxation  no  Tyranny.’^ — Farce 


of  ‘‘  St.  Patrick's  Day.’^ 79 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Duenna. — Purchase  of  Drury-Lane  Theatre. — The  Trip  to  Scarbo- 
rough.— Poetical  Correspondence  with  Mrs.  Sheridan.  . . . 105 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  School  for  Scandal 139 

CHAPTER  VI. 


Further  Purchase  of  Theatrical  Property. — Monody  to  the  Memory  of  Gar- 


rick.— Essay  on  Metre. — The  Critic. — Essay  on  Absentees. — Political 
Connections. — “ The  Englishman.*^ — Elected  for  Stafford.  . .173 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Unfinished  Plays  and  Poems 199 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

His  First  Speeches  in  Parliament. — Rockingham  Administration. — Coali- 
tion.— India  Bill. — Re-election  for  Stafford 225 


(7) 


CONTENTS. 


TiXi 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Prince  of  Wales. — Financial  Measures. — Mr.  Pitt's  East  India  Bill. — 
Irish  Commercial  Propositions. — Plan  of  the  Duke  of  Richmond. — 
Sinking  Fund. .260 

CHAPTER  X. 

Chareres  against  Mr.  Hastings. — Commercial  Treaty  with  France. — Debts  of 
The  Prince  of  Wales . 283 


MEMOIKS 


OF  THE 

LIFE  OF  THE  RT.  HON, 

RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN. 

CHAPTER  I. 

BIRTH  AND  EDUCATION  OF  MR.  SHERIDAN. — HIS  FIRST 
ATTEMPTS  IN  LITERATURE. 

Richard  Brinsley^  Sheridan  was  born  in  the  month  of  Sep 
tember,  1751,  at  No.  12,  Dorset  Street,  Dublin,  and  baptized  in 
St.  Mary’s  Church,  as  appears  by  the  register  of  the  parish,  on 
the  fourth  of  the  following  month.  His  grandfather,  Dr.  Sheri- 
dan, and  his  father,  Mr.  Thomas  Sheridan,  have  attained  a cele- 
brity, independent  of  that  which  he  has  conferred  on  them,  by 
the  friendship  and  correspondence  with  which  the  former  w^as 
honored  by  Swift,  and  the  competition  and  even  rivalry  which 
the  latter  so  long  maintained  with  Garrick.  His  mother,  too, 
was  a woman  of  considerable  talents,  and  affords  one  of  the  few 
instances  that  have  occurred,  of  a female  indebted  for  a husband 
to  her  literature ; as  it  was  a pamphlet  she  wrote  concerning  the 
Dublin  theatre  tliat  first  attracted  to  her  the  notice  of  Mr. 
Thomas  Sheridan.  Her  affecting  novel,  Sidney  Biddulph,  could 
boast  among  its  warm  panegyrists  Mr.  Fox  and  Lord  North; 
and  in  the  Tale  of  Nourjahad  she  has  employed  the  graces  of 
Eastern  fiction  to  inculcate  a grave  and  important  moral, — put- 
ting on  a fairy  disguise,  like  her  own  Mandane,  to  deceive  her 

* Ho  was  c]i  istened  also  by  the  name  of  Bailer,  after  the  Eo-rl  of  Lanesbor^gh. 

(9) 


10 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


readers  into  a taste  for  happiness  and  virtue.  Besides  her  two 
plays,  The  Discovery  and  The  Dupe, — the  former  of  which  Gar- 
rick pronounced  to  be  “ one  of  the  best  comedies  he  ever  read,” 
— she  wrote  a comedy  also,  called  The  Trip  to  Bath,  which  was 
never  either  acted  or  published,  but  which  has  been  supposed  by 
Bome  of  those  sagacious  persons,  who  love  to  look  for  flaws  in 
the  titles  of  fame,  to  have  passed,  with  her  other  papers,  into  the 
possession  of  her  son,  and,  after  a transforming  sleep,  like  that 
of  the  chrysalis,  in  his  hands,  to  have  taken  wing  at  length  in  the 
brilliant  form  of  The  Rivals.  The  literary  labors  of  her  husband 
were  less  fanciful,  but  not,  perhaps,  less  useful,  and  are  chiefly 
upon  subjects  connected  with  education,  to  the  study  and  profes- 
sion of  which  he  devoted  the  latter  part  of  his  life.  Such  dignity, 
indeed,  did  his  favorite  pursuit  assume  in  his  own  eyes,  that  he  is 
represented  (on  the  authority,  however,  of  one  who  was  himself 
a schoolmaster)  to  have  declared,  that  “ he  would  rather  see  his 
two  sons  at  the  head  of  respectable  academies,  than  one  of  them 
prime  mmister  of  England,  and  the  other  at  the  head  of  affairs 
in  Ireland.” 

At  the  age  of  seven  years,  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan  was, 
with  his  elder  brother,  Charles  Francis,  placed  under  the  tuition 
of  Mr.  Samuel  Whyte,  of  Grafton  Street,  Dublin, — an  amiable 
and  respectable  man,  who,  for  near  fifty  years  after,  continued  at 
the  head  of  his  profession  in  that  metropolis.  To  remember  our 
school-days  with  gratitude  and  pleasure,  is  a tribute  at  once  to 
the  zeal  and  gentleness  of  our  master,  which  none  ever  deserved 
more  truly  from  his  pupils  than  Mr.  Whyte,  and  which  the  wri- 
ter of  these  pages,  who  owes  to  that  excellent  person  all  the  in- 
structions in  English  literature-  he  has  ever  received,  is  happy  to 
take  this  opportunity  of  paying.  The  young  Sheridans,  however, 
were  little  more  than  a year  under  his  care — and  it  may  be  con- 
soling to  parents  who  are  in  the  first  crisis  of  impatience,  at  the 
sort  of  hopeless  stupidity  which  some  children  exhibit,  to  know, 
that  the  dawn  of  Sheridan’s  intellect  was  as  dull  and  unpromis- 
mg  as  i%  meridian  day  was  bright ; and  that  in  the  year  1759, 
he  whc,  in  less  than  thirty  years  afterwards,  held  senates  enchain- 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  11 


ed  by  his  eloquence  and  audiences  fascinated  by  Ms  wit,  was,  by 
common  consent  both  of  parent  and  preceptor,  pronounced  to  be 
“a  most  impenetrable  dunce.” 

From  Mr.  Whyte’s  school  the  boys  were  removed  to  England, 
where  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sheridan  had  lately  gone  to  reside,  and  in 
the  year  1762  Richard  was  sent  to  Harrow — Charles  being  kept 
at  home  as  a fitter  subject  for  the  instructions  of  his  father,  who, 
by  another  of  those  calculations  of  poor  human  foresight,  which 
the  deity,  called  Eventus  by  the  Romans,  takes  such  wanton  plea- 
sure in  falsifying,  consiylered  his  elder  son  as  destined  to  be  the 
brighter  of  the  two  brother  stars.  At  Harrow,  Richard  was  re- 
markable only  as  a very  idle,  careless,  but,  at  the  same  time,  en- 
gaging boy,  who  contrived  to  win  the  affection,  and  even  admira- 
tion of  the  whole  school,  both  masters  and  pupils,  by  the  mere 
charm  of  his  frank  and  genial  manners,  and  by  the  occasional 
gleams  of  superior  intellect,  which  broke  through  all  the  indolence 
and  indifference  of  his  character. 

Harrow,  at  this  time,  possessed  some  peculiar  advantages,  of 
which  a youth  like  Sheridan  might  have  powerfully  availed  him- 
self. At  the  head  of  the  school  was  Doctor  Robert  Sumner,  a 
man  of  fine  talents,  but,  unfortunately,  one  of  those  who  have 
passed  away  without  leaving  any  trace  behind,  except  in  the  ad- 
miring recollection  of  their  cotemporaries.  His  taste  is  said  to 
have. been  of  a purity  almost  perfect,  combining  what  are  seldom 
seen  together,  that  critical  judgment  which  is  alive  to  the  errors 
of  genius,  with  the  warm  sensibility  that  deeply  feels  its  beau- 
ties. At  the  same  period,  the  distinguished  scholar.  Dr.  Parr, 
who,  to  the  massy  erudition  of  a former  age,  joined  all  the  free 
and  enlightened  intelligence  of  the  present,  was  one  of  the  under 
masters  of  the  school ; and  both  he  and  Dr.  Sumner  endeavored, 
by  every  method  they  could  devise,  to  awaken  in  Sheridan  a con- 
sciousness of  those  powers  which,  under  all  the  disadvantages  of 
indolence  and  carelessness,  it  was  manifest  to  them  that  he  pos- 
sessed. But  remonstrance  and  encouragement  were  equally 
thrown  away  upon  the  good-humored  but  immovable  indiffer 
ence  of  their  pupil ; and  though  there  exist  among  Mr.  Sheridan’s 


12 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


papers  some  curious  proofs  of  an  industry  in  study  for  which  few 
have  ever  given  him  credit,  they  are  probably  but  the  desultory 
efforts  of  a later  period  of  his  life,  to  recover  the  loss  of  that 
first  precious  time,  whose  susceptibility  of  instruction,  as  well  as 
of  pleasure,  never  comes  again. 

One  of  the  most  valuable  acquisitions  he  derived  from  Harrow 
was  that  friendship,  which  lasted  throughout  his  life,  with  Dr. 
Parr, — which  mutual  admiration  very  early  began,  and  the 
“ idem  sentire  de  re  puhlica'  of  course  not  a little  strengthened. 

As  this  learned  and  estimable  man  has,  within  the  last  few 
weeks,  left  a void  in  the  world  which  will  not  be  easily  filled  up, 
I feel  that  it  would  be  unjust  to  my  readers  not  to  give,  in  his 
own  words,  the  particulars  of  Sheridan’s  school-days,  with  which 
he  had  the  kindness  to  favor  me,  and  to  which  his  name  gives  an 
authenticity  and  interest  too  valuable  on  such  a subject  to  be  with- 
held : 

“Dear  Sir,  '‘'’Hatton^  August  3,  1818. 

“With  the  aid  of  a scribe  I sit  down  to  fulfil  my  promise 
about  Mr.  Sheridan.  There  was  little  in  his  boyhood  worth  com- 
munication. He  was  inferior  to  many  of  his  school-fellows  in 
the  ordinary  business  of  a school,  and  I do  not  remember  any 
one  instance  in  which  he  distinguished  himself  by  Latin  or  Eng- 
lish composition,  in  prose  or  verse."^  Nathaniel  Halhed,  one  of 
his  school-fellows,  wrote  well  in  Latin  and  Greek.  Richard 
Archdall,  another  school-fellow,  excelled  in  English  verse.  Rich- 
ard Sheridan  aspired  to  no  rivalry  with  either  of  them.  He  was 
at  the  uppermost  part  of  the  fifth  form,  but  he  never  reached  the 
sixth,  and,  if  I mistake  not,  he  had  no  opportunity  of  attending 
the  most  difficult  and  the  most  honorable  of  school  business,  when 
the  Greek  plays  were  taught — and  it  was  the  custom  at  Harrow 
to  teach  these  at  least  every  year.  He  went  through  his  lessons 
in  Horace,  and  Virgil,  and  Homer  well  enough  for  a time.  But, 
in  the  absence  of  the  upper  master.  Doctor  Sumner,  it  once  fell 
in  my  way  to  instruct  the  two  upper  forms,  and  upon  calling  up 

* It  will  be  seen,  however,  though  Dr.  Parr  was  not  aware  of  the  circumstance,  that 
Sheridan  did  *ry  his  talent  at  English  verse  before  he  left  Harrow. 


EIGHT  iiON.  RIcHARH  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN. 


18 


Dick  Sheridan,  I found  him  not  only  slovenly  in  construing,  but 
unusually  defective  in  his  Greek  grammar.  Knowing  him  to  be 
a clever  fellow,  I did  not  fail  to  probe  and  to  tease  him.  I stated 
his  case  with  great  good-humor  to  the  upper  master,  who  was  one 
of  the  best  tempered  men  in  the  world  ; and  it  was  agreed  be- 
tween us,  that  Richard  should  be  called  oftener  and  worked  more 
severely.  Tlie  varlet  was  not  suffered  to  stand  up  in  his  place ; 
but  was  summoned  to  take  his  station  near  the  master’s  table, 
where  the  voice  of  no  prompter  could  reach  him  ; and,  in  this  de- 
fenceless condition,  he  was  so  harassed,  that  he  at  last  gathered 
up  some  grammatical  rules,  and  prepared  himself  for  his  lessons. 
While  this  tormenting  process  was  inflicted  upon  him,  I now  and 
then  upbraided  him.  But  you  will  take  notice  that  he  did  not  in- 
cur any  corporal  punishment  for  his  idleness  : his  industry  was 
just  sufficient  to  protect  him  from  disgrace.  All  the  while  Sum- 
ner and  I saw  in  him  vesjiges  of  a superior  intellect.  His  eye, 
his  countenance,  his  general  manner,  were  striking.  His  answers 
to  any  common  question  were  prompt  and  acute.  W e knew  the 
esteem,  and  even  admiration,  which,  somehow  or  other,  all  his 
school-fellows  felt  for  him.  He  was  mischievous  enough,  but  his 
pranks  were  accompanied  by  a sort  of  vivacity  and  cheerfulness, 
which  delighted  Sumner  and  myself  I had  much  talk  with  him 
about  his  apple-loft,  for  the  supply  of  which  all  the  gardens  in 
the  neighborhood  were  taxed,  and  some  of  the  lower  boys  were 
employed  to  furnish  it.  I threatened,  but  without  asperity,  to 
trace  the  depredators,,  through  his  associates,  up  to  their  leader. 
He  with  perfect  good-humor  set  me  at  defiance,  and  I never  could 
bring  the  charge  home  to  him.  All  boys  and  all  masters  were 
pleased  with  him.  I often  praised  him  as  a lad  of  great  talents, 
— often  exhorted  him  to  use  them  well ; but  my  exhortations 
were  fruitless.  I take  for  granted  that  his  taste  was  silently  im- 
proved, and  that  he  knew  well  the  little  which  he  did  know.  He 
was  removed  from  school  too  soon  by  his  father,  who  was  the 
intimate  friend  of  Sumner,  and  whom  I often  met  at  his  house. 
Sumner  had  a fine  voice,  fine  ear,  fine  taste,  and,  therefore,  pro- 
nunciation was  frequently  the  favorite  subject  between  him  and 


14 


MEMOIRS^  OF  TJSE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Tom  Sheridan.  I was  present  at  many  of  their  discussions  ai  u 
disputes,  and  sometimes  took  a very  active  part  in  them, — bai 
Richard  was  not  present.  The  father,  you  know,  was  a wrong- 
headed, whimsical  man,  and,  perhaps,  his  scanty  circumstances 
were  one  of  the  reasons  which  prevented  liim  from  sending  Rich- 
ard to  the  University.  He  must  have  been  aware,  as  Sumner  and 
I were,  that  Richard’s  mind  was  not  cast  in  any  ordinary  mould. 
I ought  to  have  told  you  that  Richard,  when  a boy,  was  a great 
reader  of  English  poetry ; but  his  exercises  afforded  no  proof 
of  his  proficiency.  In  truth,  he,  as  a boy,  was  quite  careless 
about  literary  fame.  I should  suppose  that  his  father,  without 
any  regular  system,  polished  his  taste,  and  supplied  his  memory 
with  anecdotes  about  our  best  writers  in  our  Augustan  age.  The 
grandfather,  you  know,  lived  familiarly  with  Swift.  I have  heard 
of  him,  as  an  excellent  scholar.  His  boys  in  Ireland  once  per- 
formed a Greek  play,  and  when  Sir  William  Jones  and  I were 
talking  over  this  event,  I determined  to  make  the  experiment  in 
England.  I selected  some  of  my  best  boys,  and  they  performed 
the  ffidipus  Tyrannus,  and  the  Trachinians  of  Sophocles.  I wrote 
some  Greek  lambics  to  vindicate  myself  from  the  imputation  of 
singularity,  and  grieved  I am  that  I did  not  keep  a copy  of  them. 
Milton,  you  may  remember,  recommends  what  1 attempted. 

“ I saw  much  of  Sheridan’s  father  after  the  death  of  Sumner, 
and  after  my  own  reraovai  from  Harrow  to  Stanmer.  I 
respected  him, — he  really  liked  me,  and  did  me  some  important 
services, — ^but  I never  met  him  and  Richard  together.  I often 
inquired  about  Richard,  and,  from  the  father’s  answers,  found 
they  were  not  upon  good  terms, — but  neither  he  nor  I ever 
spoke  of  his  son’s  talents  but  in  terms  of  the  highest  praise.” 

In  a subsequent  letter  Dr.  Parr  says  : “ I referred  you  to  a 
passage  in  the  Gentleman’s  Magazine,  where  I am  represented 
a^?  discovering  and  encouraging  in  Richard  Sheridan  those  intel- 
lectual powers  which  had  not  been  discovered  and  encouraged 
by  Sumner.  But  the  statement  is  incorrect.  We  both  of  us 
discovered  talents,  which  neither  of  us  could  bring  into  action 
while  Sheridan  \vas  a school-boy.  He  gave  us  few  opportuui- 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  16 

ties  of  praise  in' the  course  of  his  school  business,  and  yet  he  was 
well  aware  that  we  thought  highly  of  him,  and  anxiously  wished 
more  to  be  done  by  him  than  he  was  disposed  to  do. 

“ I once  or  twice  met  his  mother, — she  was  quite  celestial. 
Both  her  virtues  and  her  genius  were  highly  esteemed  by  Robert 
Sumner.  I know  not  whether  Tom  Sheridan  found  Richard 
tractable  in  the  art  of  speaking, — and,  upon  such  a subject,  indo- 
lence or  indifference  would  have  been  resented  by  the  father  as 
crimes  quite  inexpiable.  One  of  Richard’s  sisters  now  and  then 
visited  Harrow,  and  well  do  I remember  that,  in  the  house 
where  I lodged,  sue  triumphantly  repeated  Dryden’s  Ode  upon 
St.  Cecilia’s  Day,  according  to  the  instruction  given  to  her  by 
her  father.  Take  a sample  : 

‘ None  but  the  brave. 

None  but  the  brave, 

None  but  the  brave  deserve  the  fair.’ 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  zeal  or  the  prohciency  of  the  sister, 
naughty  Richard,  like  Gallio,  seemed  to  care  naught  for  these 
things. 

“ In  the  later  periods  of  his  life  Richard  did  not  cast  behind 
him  classical  reading.  He  spoke  copiously  and  powerfully  about 
Cicero.  He  had  read,  and  he  had  understood,  the  four  orations 
of  Demosthenes,  read  and  taught  in  our  public  schools.  He  was 
at  home  in  Virgil  and  m Horace.  1 cannot  speak  positively 
about  Homer, — but  I am  very  sure  that  he  read  the  Iliad  now 
and  then ; not  as  a professed  scholar  would  do,  critically,  but 
with  all  the  strong  sympathies  of  a poet  reading  a poet."^ 
Richard  did  not,  and  could  not  forget  what  he  once  knew,  but 
his  path  to  Icnowledge  was  his  own, — his  steps  were  noiseless, — his 
progress  was  scarcely  felt  by  himself, — his  movements  were 
rapid  but  irregular. 

“ Let  me  assure  you  that  Richard,  when  a boy,  was  by  no 

* It  was  not  one  of  the  least  of  the  triumphs  of  Sheridan’s  talent  to  have  been  able  to 
persuade  so  acute  a scholar  as  Dr.  Parr,  that  the  extent  of  his  classical  acquirements 
was  so  great  as  is  here  represented,  and  to  have  thus  impressed  with  the  idea  of  his 
remembering  so  much,  the  person  who  best  knew  how  little  he  had  learned. 


16 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LiFE  OF  THE 


means  vicious.  The  sources  of  his  infirmities  were  a scanty 
and  precarious  allowance  from  the  father,  the  want  of  a regular 
plan  for  some  profession,  and,  above  all,  the  act  of  throwing 
him  upon  the  town,  when  he  ought  to  have  been  pursuing  his 
studies  at  the  University.  He  would  have  done  little  among 
mathematicians  at  Cambridge  ; — he  would  have  been  a rake,  or 
an  idler,  or  a trifler,  at  Dublin  ; — but  I am  inclined  to  think  that 
at  Oxford  he  would  have  become  an  excellent  scholar. 

“ I have  now  told  you  all  that  I know,  and  it  amounts,  to  very 
little.  I am  very  solicitous  :or  justice  to  be  done  to  Robert 
Sumner.  He  is  one  of  the  six  or  seven  persons  among  my  own 
acquaintance  whose  taste  I am  accustomed  to  consider  perfect, 
and,  were  he  living,  his  admiration  * * * * 

During  the  greater  part  of  Richard’s  stay  at  Harrow  his 
father  had  been  compelled,  by  the  embarrassment  of  his  affairs, 
to  reside  with  the  remainder  of  the  family  in  France,  and  it  w^as 
at  Blois,  in  the  September  of  1766,  that  Mrs.  Sheridan  died — 
leaving  behind  her  that  best  kind  of  fame,  which  results  from  a 
life  of  usefulness  and  purity,  and  which  it  requires  not  the  aid 
of  art  or  eloquence  to  blazon.  She  appears  to  have  been  one 
of  those  rare  women,  who,  united  to  men  of  more  pretensions, 
but  less  real  intellect  than  themselves,  meekly  conceal  this 
superiority  even  from  their  own  hearts,  and  pass  their  lives 
without  remonstrance  or  murmur,  in  gently  endeavoring  to 
repair  those  evils  which  the  indiscretion  or  vanity  of  their 
partners  has  brought  upon  them. 

As  a supplement  to  the  interesting  con iimuii cation  of  Dr. 
Parr,  I shall  here  subjoin  an -extract  from  a letter  which  the  eldest 
sister  of  Sheridan,  Mrs.  E.  Lefanu,  wrote  a few  months  after 
his  death  to  Mrs.  Sheridan,  in  consequence  of  a wish  expressed 
by  the  latter  that  Mrs.  Lefanu  would  communicate  such  particu- 
lars as  she  remembered  of  his  early  days.  It  will  show,  too, 
the  feeling  which  his  natural  good  qualities,  in  spite  of  the  errors 
by  which  they  were  obscured  and  weakened,  kept  alive  to  the 
last,  in  the  hearts  of  those  connected  with  him,  that  sort  of 


• The  remainder  of  the  letter  relates  to  other  subjects. 


RIGHT  HOIST.  RICH  ART)  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  it 

retrospective  affection,  which,  when  those  whom  we  have  loved 
become  altered,  whether  in  mind  or  person,  brings  the  recollec- 
tion of  what  they  once  were,  to  mingle  with  and  soften  our  im- 
pression of  what  they  are. 

After  giving  an  account  of  the  residence  of  the  family  in 
France,  she  continues  : “We  returned  to  England,  when  I may 
say  I first  became  acquainted  with  my  brother — for  faint  and 
imperfect  were  my  recollections  of  him,  as  might  be  expected 
from  my  age.  I saw  him  ; and  my  childish  attachment  revived 
with  double  force.  He  was  handsome,  not  merely  in  the  eyes 
of  a partial  sister,  but  generally  allowed  to  be  so.  His  cheeks 
had  the  glow  of  health  ; his  eyes, — the  finest  in  the  world, — the 
brilliancy  of  genius,  and  were  soft  as  a tender  and  affectionate 
heart  could  render  them.  The  same  playful  fancy,  the  same 
sterling  and  innoxious  wit,  that  was  showm  afterwards  in  his 
writings,  cheered  and  delighted  the  family  circle.  I admired — I 
almost  adored  him.  I would  most  willingly  have  sacrificed  my 
life  for  him,  as  I,  in  some  measure,  proved  to  him.  at  Bath, 
where  we  resided  for  some  time,  and  where  events  that  you 
must  have  heard  of  engaged  him  in  a duel.  My  father’s  dis- 
pleasure threatened  to  involve  me  in  the  denunciations  against 
him,  for  committing  what  he  considered  as  a crime.  Yet  I 
risked  everything,  and  in  the  event  was  made  happy  by  obtaining 
forgiveness  for  my  brother.  ^ ^ ^ ^ You  may  perceive,  dear 
sister,  that  very  little  indeed  have  I to  say  on  a subject  so  near 
your  heart,  and  near  mine  also.  That  for  years  I lost  sight  of  a 
brother  whom  I loved  with  unabated  affection — a love  that  neither 
absence  nor  neglect  could  chill — I always  consider  as  a great 
misfortune.” 

On  his  leaving  Harrow,  where  he  continued  till  near  his 
eighteenth  year,  he  was  brought  home  by  his  father,  who,  with 
the  elder  son,  Charles,  had  lately  returned  from  France,  and 
taken  a house  in  London.  Here  the  two  brothers  for  some  time 
received  private  tuition  from  Mr.  Lewis  Kerr,  an  Irish  gentle 
man,  who  had  formerly  practised  as  a physician,  but  having,  by 
loss  of  health,  been  obliged  to  give  up  his  profession,  supported 


18 


MEMOIRS  OP  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


himself  by  giving  lessons  in  Latin  and  Mathematics.  They 
attended  also  the  fencing  and  riding  schools  of  Mr.  Angelo,  and 
received  instructions  from  their  father  in  English  grammar  and 
oratory.  Of  this  advantage,  however,  it  is  probable,  only  the 
elder  son  availed  himself,  as  Richard,  who  seems  to  have  been 
determined  to  owe  all  his  excellence  to  nature  alone,  was  found 
as  impracticable  a pupil  at  home  as  at  school.  But,  however 
inattentive  to  his  studies  he  may  have  been  at  Harrow,  it 
appears,  from  one  of  the  letters  of  his  school-fellow,  Mr.  Halhed, 
that  in  poetry,  which  is  usually  the  first  exercise  in  which  these 
young  athletse  of  intellect  try  their  strength,  he  had  already  dis- 
tinguished himself ; and,  in  conjunction  with  his  friend  Halhed, 
had  translated  the  seventh  Idyl,  and  many  of  the  lesser  poems 
of  Theocritus.  This  literary  partnership  was  resumed  soon  after 
their  departure  from  Harrow.  In  the  year  1770,  when  Halhed 
was  at  Oxford,  and  Sheridan  residing  with  his  father  at  Bath, 
they  entered  into  a correspondence,  (of  which,  unluckily,  only 
Halhed  s share  remains,)  and,  with  all  the  hope  and  spirit  o^ 
young  adventurers,  began  and  prosecuted  a variety  of  works 
together,  of  which  none  but  their  translation  of  Aristsenetus  ever 
saw  the  light. 

There  is  something  in  tne  alliance  between  these  boys  pecu- 
liarly interesting.  Their  united  ages,  as  Halhed  boasts  in  one 
of  his  letters,  did  not  amount  to  thirty-eight.  They  \vere  both 
abounding  in  wit  and  spirits,  and  as  sanguine  as  the  consciousness 
of  talent  and  youth  could  make  them  ; both  inspired  with  a 
taste  for  pleasure,  and  thrown  upon  their  own  resources  for  the 
means  of  gratifying  it;  both  carelessly  embarking,  without 
rivalry  or  reserve,  their  venture  of  fame  in  the  same  bottom, 
and  both,  as  Halhed  discovered  at  last,  passionately  in  love 
with  the  same  'woman. 

It  would  have  given  me  great  pleasure  to  have  been  enabled 
to  enliven  my  pages  with  even  a few  extracts  from  that  portion 
of  their  correspondence,  which,  as  I have  just  mentioned,  has 
fallen  into  my  hands.  There  is  in  the  letters  of  Mr.  Halhed  a 
fresh  youthfulness  of  style,  and  an  unaffected  vivacity  of  thought, 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  19 


which  I question  whether  even  his  witty  correspondent  could 
have  surpassed.  As  I do  not,  however,  feel  authorized  to  lay 
these  letters  before  the  world,  I must  only  avail  myself  of  the 
aid  which  their  contents  supply  tov/ards  tracing  the  progress  of 
his  literary  partnership  with  Sheridan,  and  throwing  light  on  a 
period  so  full  of  interest  in  the  life  of  the  latter. 

Their  first  joint  production  was  a farce,  or  rather  play,  in  three 
acts,  called  ‘‘Jupiter,”  written  in  imitation  of  the  burletta  of 
JMidas,  whose  popularity  seems  to  have  tempted  into  its  wake  a 
number  of  these  musical  parodies  upon  heathen  fable.  The 
amour  of  Jupiter  with  Major  Amphitryon’s  wife,  and  Sir  Rich- 
ard Ixion’s  courtship  of  Juno,  who  substitutes  Miss  Peggy  Nuhi- 
lis  in  her  place,  form  the  subject  of  this  ludicrous  little  drama, 
of  which  Halhed  furnished  the  burlesque  scenes, — while  the  form 
of  a rehearsal,  into  which  the  whole  is  thrown,  and  which,  as  an 
anticipation  of  “ The  Critic”  is  highly  curious,  was  suggested  and 
managed  entirely  by  Sheridan.  The^following  extracts  will  give 
gome  idea  of  the  humor  of  this  trifle ; and  in  the  character  of 
Simile  the  reader  will  at  once  discover  a sort  of  dim  and 
shadowy  pre-existence  of  Puff : — 

Simile.  Sir,  you  are  very  ignorant  on  the  subject, — it  is  the  method 
most  in  vogue.  ’ 

‘‘  GWul.  What!  to  make  the  music  first,  and  then  make  the  sense  to  it 
afterwards  1 

“ Sim.  Just  so. 

‘‘  Monop.  What  Mr.  Simile  says  is  very  true,  gentlemen ; and  there  is 
nothing  surprising  in  it,  if  we  consider  now  the  general  method  of  writing 
plays  to  scenes. 

‘‘  O' Out.  Writing  to  scenes! — Oh,  you  are  joking. 

“ Monop.  Not  I,  upon  my  word.  Mr.  Simile  knows  that  I have  frequent- 
ly a complete  set  of  scenes  from  Italy,  and  then  I have  nothing  to  do  but 
to  get  some  ingenious  hand  to  write  a play  to  them. 

Sim.  I am  your  witness.  Sir.  Gentlemen,  you  perceive  you  know 
nothing  about  these  matters. 

“ QCul.  Why,  Mr.  Simile,  I don’t  pretend  to  know  much  relating  to  these 
affairs,  but  what  I think  is  this,  that  in  this  method,  according  to  your  prin- 
ciples, you  must  often  commit  blunders. 

Sim,  Blunders!  to  be  sure  I must,  but  I always  could  get  myself  out 


20 


MEMOIRS  OP  THE  LIFE  OP  THE 


of  them  again.  Why,  I’ll  tell  you  an  instance  of  it. — You  must  know  1 
was  once  a journeyman  sonnet-writer  to  Signor  Squallini.  Now,  his  method, 
when  seized  with  the  furor  harmonicu8^  was  constantly  to  make  me  sit  by 
his  side,  while  he  was  thrumming  on  his  harpsichord,  in  order  to  make  ex- 
tempore verses  to  whatever  air  he  should  beat  out  to  his  liking.  I remem- 
ber, one  morning,  as  he  was  in  this  situation,  thruniy  thrum^  ihrum^  (moving 
his  fingers  as  if  heating  on  the  harpsichord^)  striking  out  something  pro- 
digiously great,  as  he  thought, — ‘ Hah  !’  said  he, — ‘ hah!  Mr.  Simile,  thrum, 
thrum ^ thrum^  by  gar  here  is  vary  fine, — thrum,  thrum,  thrum,  write  me 
some  words  directly.’ — I durst  not  interrupt  him  to  ask  on  what  subject,  so 
instantly  began  to  describe  a fine  morning. 

“ ^ Calm  was  the  land  and  calm  the  seas. 

And  calm  the  heaven’s  dome  serene, 

Hush’d  was  the  gale  and  hush’d  the  breeze, 

And  not  a vapor  to  be  seen.’ 

I sang  it  to  his  notes, — ‘ Hah ! upon  my  vord  vary  pritt, — thrum,  thrum^ 
thrum, — stay,  stay, — thrum,  ^Arwm,^Hoa?  upon  my  vord,  here  it  must  be 
an  adagio, — thrum,  thrum, — oh  1 let  it  be  an  Ode  to  Melancholy.^ 

Monop.  The  Devil! — ther^you  v/ere  puzzled  sure. 

‘‘  Bim.  Not  in  the  least, — I brought  in  a cloud  in  the  next  stanza,  and 
matters,  you  see,  came  about  at  once. 

“ Monop.  An  excellent  transition. 

“ OWul.  Vastly  ingenious  indeed. 

Sim.  Was  it  not?  hey!  it  required  a little  command, — a little  presence 
of  mind, — but  I believe  we  had  better  proceed. 

“ Monop.  The  sooner  the  better, — come,  gentlemen,  resume  your  seats. 

“ Sim.  Now  for  it.  Draw  up  the  curtain,  and  (looking  at  his  hook)  enter 
Sir  Richard  Ixion, — but  stay, — zounds.  Sir  Richard  ought  to  overhear  Ju- 
piter and  his  wife  quarrelling, — but,  never  mind, — these  accidents  have 
spoilt  the  division  of  my  piece. — So  enter  Sir  Richard,  and  look  as  cunning 
as  if  you  had  overheard  them.  Now  for  it,  gentlemen, — you  can’t  be  toe 
attentive. 

Enter  Sir  Richard  Ixion  completely  dressed,  with  hag,  sword,  dec. 

“ Tx.  ’Fore  George,  at  logger-heads, — a lucky  minute, 

’Ron  honor,  I may  make  my  market  in  it. 

Dem  it,  my  air,  address,  and  mien  must  touch  her, 

Now  out  of  sorts  with  him, — less  God  than  butcher. 

0 rat  the  fellow, — where  can  all  his  sense  lie, 

To  gallify  the  lady  so  immensely? 

Ah!  le  grand  hete  quHl  est ! — how  rude  the  bear  is! 

The  world  to  two-pence  he  was  ne’er  at  Paris. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  21 


j erdition  stap  my  vitals,. — now  or  never 
I’ll  niggle  snugly  into  Juno’s  favor. 

Let's  see, — {looking  in  a glass)  my  face, — toll  loll — Hwill  work  upon  her. 
My  person — oh,  immense,  upon  my  honor. 

My  eyes, — oh  fie, — the  naughty  glass  it  fiatters, — 

Courage, — Ixion  flogs  the  world  to  tatters.  \^Exit  Txion. 

“ Sim.  There  is  a fine  gentleman  for  you, — in  the  very  pink  of  the  mode, 
with  not  a single  article  about  him  his  own, — his  words  pilfered  fi:om  Maga- 
zines, his  address  from  French  valets,  and  his  clothes  not  paid  for. 

Macd.  But  pray,  Mr.  Simile,  how  did  Ixion  get  into  heaven  ? 

Sim.  Why,  Sir,  what’s  that  to  any  body  ? — perhaps  by  Salmoneus’s 
Brazen  Bridge,  or  the  Giant’s  Mountain,  or  the  Tower  of  Babel,  or  on 
Theobald’s  bull-dogs,  or — who  the  devil  cares  how? — he  is  there,  and  that’s 
enough.”  * 

*<**♦♦♦*♦ 

“ Sim.  Now  for  a Phoenix  of  a song. 

Song  hg  Jupiter. 

You  dogs,  I’m  Jupiter  Imperial, 

King,  Emperor,  and  Pope  aetherial, 

Master  of  th’  Ordnance  of  the  sky. — 

“ Sim.  Z ds,  where’s  the  ordnance  ? Have  you  forgot  the  plst  A ? (^o 

the  Orchestra,) 

‘‘  Orchestra,  {to  some  one  behind  the  scenes.)  Tom,  are  not  you  pre- 
pared? 

“ Tom.  {from  behind  the  scenes.)  Yes,  Sir,  but  I flash’d  in  the  pan  a 
little  out  of  time,  and  had  I staid  to  prime,  I should  have  shot  a bar  too  late. 

Sim.  Oh  then,  Jupiter,  begin  the  song  again. — We  must  not  lose  our 
ordnance. 

You  dogs,  I’m  Jupiter  Imperial, 

King,  Emperor,  and  Pope  aetherial,. 

Master  of  th’  Ordnance  of  the  sky  ; &c.  &c. 

\_flere  a pistol  or  cracker  is  fired  from  behind  the  scenes. 

‘‘  Sim.  This  hint  I took  from  Handel. — Well,  how  do  you  think  we  go  on? 
‘‘  O^Cul.  With  vast  spirit, — the  plot  begins  to  thicken. 

“ Sim.  Thicken  ! aye.— ’twill  be  as  thick  as  the  calf  of  your  leg  present- 
ly. Well,  now  for  the  real,  original,  patentee  Amphitryon.  What,  ho,  Am- 
phitryon! Amphitryon  I— ’tis  Simile  calls.— Why,  where  the  devil  is  he? 

Enter  Servant. 

Monop.  Tom,  where  is  Amphitryon? 

“ Sim.  Zounds,  he's  not  arrested  too,  is  he  ? 


22 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Serv.  No,  Sir,  but  there  was  but  one  black  eye  in  the  house,  and  he 
waiting  to  get  it  from  Jupiter. 

“ Sim.  To  get  a black  eye  from  Jupiter, — oh,  this  will  never  do.  Why, 
when  they  meet,  they  ought  to  match  like  two  beef-eaters.^^ 

According  to  their  original  plan  for  the  conclusion  of  this 
farce,  all  thihgs  were  at  last  to  be  compromised  between  Jupiter 
and  Juno  ; Amphitryon  was  to  be  comforted  in  the  birth  of  sc 
mighty  a son ; Ixion,  for  his  presumption,  instead  of  being  fixed 
to  a torturing  wheel,  was  to  have  been  fixed  to  a vagrant  mono- 
troche, as  knife-grinder,  and  a grand  chorus  of  deities  (intermixed 
with  “ knives,  scissors,  pen-knives  to  grind,”  set  to  music  as  nearly 
as  possible  to  the  natural  cry,)  would  have  concluded  the  whole. 

That  habit  of  dilatoriness,  which  is  too  often  attendant  upon 
genius,  and  which  is  for  ever  making  it,  like  the  pistol  in  the  scene 
just  quoted,  “ shoot  a bar  too  late,”  was,  through  life,  remarkable 
in  the  character  of  Mr.  Sheridan, — and  we  have  here  an  early  in- 
stance of  its  influence  over  him.  Though  it  was  in  August,  1770, 
that  he  received  the  sketch  of  this  piece  from  his  friend,  and 
though  they  both  looked  forward  most  sanguinely  to  its  success, 
as  likely  to  realize  many  a dream  of  fame  and  profit,  it  was  not 
till  the  month  of  May  in  the  subsequent  year,  as  appears  by  a 
letter  from  Mr.  Ker  to  Sheridan,  that  the  probability  of  the  ar- 
rival of  the  manuscript  was  announced  to  Mr.  Foote.  “ I have 
dispatched  a card,  as  from  II.  H.,  at  Owen’s  Coffee-house,  to  Mr. 
Foote,  to  inform  him  that  he  may  expect  to  see  your  dramatic 
piece  about  the  25th  instant.” 

Their  hopes  and  fears  in  this  theatrical  speculation  are  very 
naturally  and  livelily  expressed  throughout  Ilalhed’s  letters,  some- 
times with  a degree  of  humorous  pathos,  which  is  interesting  as 
characteristic  of  both  the  writers  : — “ the  thoughts,”  he  says,  “ of 
200/.  shared  between  us  are  enough  to  bring  the  tears  into  one’s 
eyes.”  Sometimes,  he  sets  more  moderate  limits  to  their  am- 
* bition,  and  hopes  that  they  will,  at  least,  get  the  freedom  of  the 
play-house  by  it.  But  at  all  times  he  chides,  with  good-humored 
impatience,  the  tardiness  of  his  follow-laborer  in  applying  to  the 
managers.  Fears  are  expressed  that  Foote  may  have  made 


BIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  28 


Other  engagements, — and  that  a piece,  called  ‘‘Dido,”  on  the 
same  mythological  plan,  which  had  lately  been  produced  with  but 
little  success,  might  prove  an  obstacle  to  the  reception  of  theirs. 
At  Drury  Lane,  too,  they  had  little  hopes  of  a favorable  hearing, 
as  Dibdin  was  one  of  the  principal  butts  of  their  ridicule. 

The  summer  season,  however,  was  suffered  to  pass  away  with- 
out an  effort ; and  in  October,  1771,  we  find  Mr.  Halhed  flatter- 
ing himself  with  hopes  from  a negotiation  with  Mr.  Garrick.  It 
does  not  appear,  however,  that  Sheridan  ever  actually  presented 
this  piece  to  any  of  the  managers  ; and  indeed  it  is  probable, 
from  the  following  fragment  of  a scene  found  among  his  papers, 
that  he  soon  abandoned  the  groundwork  of  Halhed  altogether, 
and  transferred  his  plan  of  a rehearsal  to  some  other  subject, 
of  his  own  invention,  and,  therefore,  more  worthy  of  his  wit. 
It  will  be  perceived  that  the  puffing  author  was  here  intended  to 
be  a Scotchman. 

“ M.  Sir,  I have  read  your  comedy,  and  I think  it  has  infinite  merit,  but, 
pray,  don’t  you  think  it  rather  grave  ? 

S.  Sir,  you  say  true ; it  is  a grave  comedy.  I follow  the  opinion  of 
Longinus,  who  says  comedy  ought  always  to  be  sentimental.  Sir,  I value 
a sentiment  of  six  lines  in  my  piece  no  more  than  a nabob  does  a rupee.  I 
hate  those  dirty,  paltry  equivocations,  which  go  by  the  name  of  puns,  and 
pieces  of  wit.  No,  Sir,  it  ever  was  my  opinion  that  the  stage  should  be  a 
place  of  rational  entertainment ; instead  of  which,  I am  very  sorry  to  say, 
most  people  go  there  for  their  diversion : accordingly,  I have  formed  my 
comedy  so  that  it  is  no  laughing,  giggling  piece  of  work.  He  must  be  a 
very  light  man  that  shall  discompose  his  muscles  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end. 

“ M.  But  don’t  you  think  it  may  be  too  grave  ? 

“ S.  0 never  fear ; and  as  for  hissing,  mon,  they  might  as  well  hiss  the 
common  prayer-book  ; for  there  is  the  viciousness  of  vice  and  the  virtuous- 
ness of  virtue  in  every  third  line. 

“ M.  I confess  there  is  a great  deal  of  moral  in  it  ; but.  Sir,  I should 
imagine  if  you  tried  your  hand  at  tragedy 

“ 8.  No,  mon,  there  you  are  out,  and  I’ll  relate  to  you  what  put  me  first 
on  writing  a comedy.  You  must  know  I had  composed  a very  fine  tragedy 
about  the  valiant  Bruce.  I showed  it  my  Laird  of  Mackintosh,  and  he  was 
a very  candid  mon,  and  he  said  my  genius  did  not  lie  in  tragedy : I took 
the  hint,  and,  as  soon  as  I got  home,  began  my  comedy.” 


24 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


W e have  here  some  of  the  very  thoughts  and  words  tliat 
afterwards  contributed  to  the  fortune  of  Puff ; and  it  is  amusing 
to  observe  how  long  this  subject  was  played  with  by  the  current 
of  Sheridan’s  fancy,  till  at  last,  like  “ a stone  of  lustre  from  the 
brook,”  it  came  forth  with  all  that  smoothness  and  polish  which 
it  wears  in  his  inimitable  farce.  The  Critic.  Thus  it  is,  too,  and 
but  little  to  the  glory  of  what  are  called  our  years  of  discretion, 
that  the  life  of  the  man  is  chiefly  employed  in  giving  effect  to  the 
wishes  and  plans  of  the  hoy. 

Another  of  their  projects  was  a Periodical  Miscellany,  the  idea 
of  which  originated  with  Sheridan,  and  whose  first  embryo 
movements  we  trace  in  a letter  to  him  from  Mr.  Lewis  Kerr, 
who  undertook,  with  much  good  nature,  the  negotiation  of  the 
young  authcPs  literary  concerns  in  London.  The  letter  is  dated 
30th  of  October,  1770  : “As  to  your  intended  periodical  paper, 
if  it  meets  with  success,  there  is  no  doubt  of  profit  accruing,  as 
I have  already  engaged  a publisher,  of  established  reputation,  to 
undertake  it  for  the  account  of  the  authors.  But  I am  to  indem- 
nify him  in  case  it  should  not  sell,  and  to  advance  part  of  the 
first  expense,  all  which  I can  do  without  applying  to  Mr.  Ewart.” 
— “ I would  be  glad  to  know  what  stock  of  papers  you  have 
already  written,  as  there  ought  to  be  ten  or  a dozen  at  least 
finished  before  you  print  any,  in  order  to  have  time  to  prepare 
the  subsequent  numbers,  and  ensure  a continuance  of  the  work. 
As  to  the  coffee-houses,  you  must  not  depend  on  their  taking  it 
in  at  first,  except  you  go  on  the  plan  of  the  Tatler,  and  give,  the 
news  of  the  week.  For  the  first  two  or  three  weeks  the  expense 
of  advertising  will  certainly  prevent  any  profit  being  made. 
But  when  that  is  over,  if  a thousand  are  sold  weekly,  you  may 
reckon  on  receiving  £5  clear.  One  paper  a week  will  do  better 
than  two.  Pray  say  no  more  as  to  our  accounts.” 

The  title  intended  by  Sheridan  for  this  paper  was  “ Hernan’s 
Miscellany,”  to  which  his  friend  Halhed  objected,  and  suggested, 
“ The  Reformer,”  as  a newer  and  more  significant  name.  But 
though  Halhed  appears  to  have  sought  among  his  Oxford  friends 
for  an  auxiliary  or  two  in  their  weekly  labors,  this  meditated 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN. 


25 


Miscellany  never  proceeded  beyond  the  first  number,  which  was 
written  by  Sheridan,  and  which  I have  found  among  his  papers. 
It  is  too  diffuse  and  pointless  to  be  given  entire  ; but  an  extract 
or  two  from  it  will  not  be  unwelcome  to  those  who  love  to  trace 
even  the  first,  feeblest  beginnings  of  genius  : 

HERNAN’S  MISCELLANY. 

No.  I. 

^‘‘I  will  sit  down  and  write  for  the  good  of  the  people—for  (said  I to 
myself,  pulling  off  my  spectacles,  and  drinking  up  the  remainder  of  my 
sixpenVorth)  it  cannot  be  but  people  must  be  sick  of  these  same  rascally 
politics.  All  last  winter  nothing  but— God  defend  me!  ’tis  tiresome  to 
think  of  it.’  I immediately  flung  the  pamphlet  down  on  the  table,  and 
taking  my  hat  and  cane  walked  out  of  the  cofiee-house. 

“ I kept  up  as  smart  a pace  as  I could  all  the  way  home,  for  I felt  myself 
full  of  something,  and  enjoyed  my  own  thoughts  so  much,  that  I was  afraid 
of  digesting  them,  lest  any  should  escape  me.  At  last  I knocked  at  my 
own  door. — ‘ So !’  said  I to  the  maid  who  opened  it,  (for  I never  would 
keep  a man  ; not,  but  what  I could  afford  it — however,  the  reason  is  not 
material  now,)  ‘ So  I’  said  I with  an  unusual  smile  upon  my  face,  and  imme- 
diately sent  her  for  a quire  of  paper  and  half  a hundred  of  pens — the  only 
thing  I had  absolutely  determined  on  in  my  way  from  the  coffee-house.  I 
had  now  got  seated  in  my  arm  chair, — I am  an  infirru  old  man,  and  I live  on 
a second  floor, — when  I began  to  ruminate  on  my  project.  The  first  thin^ 
that  occurred  to  me  (and  certainly  a very  natural  one)  was  to  examine  my 
common-place  book.  So  I went  to  my  desk  and  took  out  my  old  faithful 
red-leather  companion,  who  had  long  discharged  the  office  of  treasurer  to 
all  my  best  hints  and  memorandums  : but,  how  w’as  I surprised,  when  one 
of  the  first  things  that  struck  my  eyes  v/as  the  following  memorandum, 
legibly  WTitten,  and  on  one  of  my  best  sheets  of  vellum  : — ‘ Mem. — Oct.  20th, 

1769,  left  the  Grecian  after  having  read "s  Poems^  vnth  a determined 

resolution  to  write  a Periodical  Paper,  in  ord>r  to  reform  the  vitiated  taste 
of  the  age  ; but,  coming  home  and  finding  my  fire  out,  and  my  maid  gone 
abroad,  was  obliged  to  defer  the  execution  of  my  plan  to  another  op- 
portunity.Now  though  this  event  had  absolutely  slipped  my  memory,  I 
now  recollected  it  perfectly, — ay,  so  my  fire  was  out  indeed,  and  my  maid  did 
go  abroad  sure  enough. — ‘ Good  Heavens  1’  said  I,  ‘ how  great  events  depend 
upon  little  circumstances !’  However,  I looked  upon  this  as  a memento  for 
me  no  longer  to  trifle  away  my  time  and  resolution  ; and  thus  I began  to 
reason, — I mean,  I would  have  reasoned,  had  I not  been  interrupted  by 
a noise  of  some  one  coming  up  stairs.  By  the  alternate  thump  upon 
VOL.  I.  8 


26 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


the  steps,  I soon  discovered  it  must  be  my  old  and  intimate  friend  Rud- 
liche. 

******** 

‘‘But,  to  return,  in  walked  Rudliche. — ‘ So,  Fred.’ — ‘ So,  Bob.’ — ‘Were 
you  at  the  Grecian  to-day?’ — ‘I  just  stepped  in.’ — ‘Well,  any  news?’ — 

‘ No,  no,  there  was  no  news.’  Now,  as  Bob  and  I saw  one  another  almost 
every  day,  we  seldom  abounded  in  conversation ; so,  having  settled  one 
material  point,  he  sat  in  his  usual  posture,  looking  at  the  fire  and  beating 
the  dust  out  of  his  wooden  leg,  when  I perceived  he  was  going  to  touch 
upon  the  other  subject  5 but,  having  by  chance  cast  his  eye  on  my  face,  and 
finding  (I  suppose)  something  extraordinary  in  my  countenance,  he  imme- 
diately dropped  all  concern  for  the  weather,  and  putting  his  hand  into  his 
pocket,  (as  if  he  meant  to  find  what  he  v/as  going  to  say,  under  pretence  of 
feeling  for  his  tobacco-box,)  ‘ Hernan ! (he  began)  why,  man,  you  look  for 
all  the  world  as  if  you  had  been  thinking  of  something.’ — ‘ Yes,’  replied  I, 
smiling,  (that  is,  not  actually  smiling,  but  with  a conscious  something  in  my 
face,)  ‘ I have,  indeed,  been  thinking  a little.’ — ‘ What,  is’t  a secret  ?’ — ‘ Oh, 
nothing  very  material.’  Here  ensued  a pause,  which  I employed  in  con- 
sidering whether  I should  reveal  my  scheme  to  Bob  ; and  Bob  in  trying  to 
disengage  his  thumb  from  the  string  of  his  cane,  as  if  he  were  preparing  to 
take  his  leave.  This  latter  action,  with  the  great  desire  I had  of  disbur- 
dening myself,  made  me  instantly  resolve  to  lay  my  whole  plan  before  him. 

‘ Bob,’  said  I,  (he  immediately  quitted  his  thumb,)  • you  remarked  that  I 
looked  as  if  I had  been  thinking  of  something, — your  remark  is  just,  and 
.^’11  tell  you  the  subject  of  my  thought.  You  know.  Bob,  that  I always  had 
a strong  passion  for  literature  : — you  have  often  seen  my  collection  of  books, 
not  very  large  indeed,  however  I believe  I have  read  every  volume  of  it 

twice  over,  (excepting ’5  Divine  Legation  of  Moses,  and ’5  Lives 

of  the  most  notorious  Malefactors,)  and  I am  now  determined  to  proht  by 
them.’  I concluded  with  a very  significant  nod  ; but,  good  heavens ! how 
mortified  was  I to  find  both  my  speech  and  my  nod  thrown  away,  when 
Rudliche  calmly  replied,  with  the  true  phlegm  of  ignorance,  ‘ My  dear 
friend,  I think  your  resolution  in  regard  to  your  books  a very  prudent  one ; 
but  I do  not  perfectly  conceive  your  plan  as  to  the  profit ; for,  though  your 
volumes  may  be  very  curious,  yet  you  know  they  are  most  of  them  second- 
hand.’— I was  so  vexed  with  the  fellow’s  stupidity  that  I had  a great  mind 
to  punish  him  by  not  disclosing  a syllable  more.  However,  at  last  my 
vanity  got  the  better  of  my  resentment,  and  I explained  to  him  the  whole 
matter. 

*♦♦*♦**  * 

“ In  examining  the  beginning  of  the  Spectators,  &c.,  I find  they  are  all 
written  by  a society. — Now  I profess  to  write  all  myself,  though  I acknowl 


BIGHT  HON.  EICHABD  BBINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  27 


edge  that,  on  account  of  a weakness  in  my  eyes,  I have  got  some  under- 
strappers who  are  to  write  the  poetry,  &c In  order  to  find  the  dif- 

ferent merits  of  these  my  subalterns,  1 stipulated  with  them  that  they  should 
let  me  feed  them  as  I would.  This  they  consented  to  do,  and  it  is  surpris- 
ing to  think  what  different  effects  diet  has  on  the  writers.  The  same,  who 
after  having  been  fed  two  days  upon  artichokes  produced  as  pretty  a copy 
of  verses  as  ever  I saw,  on  beef  was  as  dull  as  ditch-water  * * * 

“ It  is  a characteristic  of  fools,”  says  some  one,  ‘‘  to  be  always 
beginning,” — and  this  is  not  the  only  point  in  which  folly  and 
genius  resemble  each  other.  So  chillingly  indeed  do  the  difficul- 
ties of  execution  succeed  to  the  first  ardor  cf  conception,  that  it 
is  only  wonderful  there  should  exist  so  many  finished  monu- 
ments of  genius,  or  that  men  of  fancy  should  not  oftener  have 
contented  themselves  with  those  first  vague  sketches,  in  the 
production  of  which  the  chief  luxury  of  intellectual  creation  lies. 
Among  the  many  literary  works  shadowed  out  by  Sheridan  at 
this  time  were  a Collection  of  Occasional  Poems,  and  a volume 
of  Crazy  Tales,  to  the  former  of  which  Halhed  suggests  that 
‘‘  the  old  things  they  did  at  Harrow  out  of  Theocritus  ” might, 
with  a little  pruning,  form  a useful  contribution.  The  loss  of 
the  volume  of  Crazy  Tales  is  little  to  be  regretted,  as  from  its 
title  we  may  conclude  it  was  written  in  imitation  of  the  clever 
but  licentious  productions  of  John  Hall  Stephenson.  If  the 
same  kind  oblivion  had  closed  over  the  levities  of  other  young 
authors,  who,  in  the  season  of  folly  and  the  passions,  have  made 
their  pages  the  transcript  of  their  lives,  it  would  have  been 
equally  fortunate  for  themselves  and  the  world. 

But  whatever  may  have  been  the  industry  of  these  youthful 
authors,  the  translation  of  Aristeenetus,  as  I have  already  stated, 
was  the  only  fruit  of  their  literary  alliance  that  ever  arrived  at 
sufficient  maturity  for  publication.  In  November,  1770,  Halhed 
had  completed  and  forwarded  to  Bath  his  share  of  the  work, 
and  in  the  following  month  we  find  Sheridan  preparing,  with  the 
assistance  of  a Greek  grammar,  to  complete  the  task.  “ The 
29th  ult.,  (says  Mr.  Ker,  in  a letter  to  him  from  London,  dated 
Dec.  4,  1770,)  I was  favored  with  yours,  and  have  since  been 
hunting  for  Aristsenetus,  whom  1 found  this  day,  and  therefore 


28 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


send  to  you,  together  with  a Greek  grammar.  I might  have 
dispatched  at  the  same  time  some  numbers  of  the  Dictionary, 
but  not  having  got  the  last  two  numbers,  was  not  willing  to 
send  any  without  the  whole  of  what  is  published,  and  still  less 
willing  to  delay  Aristasnetus’s  journey  by  waiting  for  them.” 
The  work  alluded  to  here  is  the  Dictionary  of  Arts  and  Sciences, 
to  which  Sheridan  had  subscribed,  with  the  view,  no  doubt,  of 
informing  himself  upon  subjects  of  which  he  was  as  yet  wholly 
ignorant,  having  left  school,  like  most  other  young  men  at  his 
age,  as  little  furnished  with  the  knowledge  that  is  wanted  in 
the  world,  as  a person  would  be  for  the  demands  of  a market, 
who  went  into  it  with  nothing  but  a few  ancient  coins  in  his 
pocket.  ^ 

The  passion,  however,  that  now  began  to  take  possession  of 
his  heart  was  little  favorable  to  his  advancement  in  any  serious 
studies,  and  it  may  easily  be  imagined  that,  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Miss  Linley,  the  Arts  and  Sciences  were  suffered  to  sleep 
quietly  on  their  shelves.  Even  the  translation  of  Aristsenetus, 
though  a task  more  suited,  from  its  amatory  nature,  to  the  ex- 
isting temperature  of  his  heart,  was  proceeded  in  but  slowly  ; 
and  it  appears  from  one  of  Halhed’s  letters,  that  this  impatient 
ally  was  already  counting  upon  the  sjpolia  ophna  of  the  campaign, 
before  Sheridan  had  fairly  brought  his  Greek  grammar  into  the 
field.  The  great  object  of  the  former  was  a visit  to  Bath,  and 
he  had  set  his  heart  still  more  anxiously  upon  it,  after  a second 
meeting  with  Miss  Linley  at  Oxford.  But  the  profits  expected 
from  their  literary  undertakings  were  the  only  means  to  which 
he  looked  for  the  realizing  of  this  dream  ; and  he  accordingly 
implores  his  friend,  with  tlie  most  comic  piteousness,  to  drive 
the  farce  on  the  stage  by  main  force,  and  to  make  Aristsenetus 
sell  whether  he  will  or  not.  In  the  November  of  this  year  we 
find  them  discussing  the  propriety  of  prefixing  their  names  to 
the  work — Sheridan  evidently  not  disinclined  to  venture,  but 
Ilalhed  recommending  that  they  should  wait  to  hear  how  Sum- 
ner and  the  wise  few  of  their  acquaintance  ” would  talk  of  the 
bookj  before  they  risked  anything  more  than  their  initials.  In 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  29 


answer  to  Sheridan’s  inquiries  as  to  the  extent  of  sale  they  may 
expect  in  Oxford,  he  confesses  that,  after  three  coffee-houses  had 
bought  one  a-piece,  not  two  more  would  be  sold. 

That  poverty  is  the  best  nurse  of  talent  has  long  been  a most 
humiliating  truism ; and  the  fountain  of  the  Muses,  bursting 
from  a barren  rock,  is  but  too  apt  an  emblem  of  the  hard  source 
from  which  much  of  the  genius  of  this  world  has  issued.  How 
strongly  the  young  translators  of  Aristaenetus  were  under  the 
influence  of  this  sort  of  inspiration  appears  from  every  para- 
graph of  Halhed’s  letters,  and  might  easily,  indeed,  be  concluded 
of  Sheridan,  from  the  very  limited  circumstances  of  his  father, 
who  had  nothing  besides  the  pension  of  £200  a year,  conferred 
upon  him  in  consideration  of  his  literary  merits,  and  the  little 
profits  he  derived  from  his  lectures  in  Bath,  to  support  with 
decency  himself  and  his  family.  The  prospects  of  Halhed  were 
much  more  golden,  but  he  was  far  too  gay  and  mercurial  to  be 
prudent ; and  from  the  very  scanty  supplies  which  his  father 
allowed  him,  had  quite  as  little  of  “ le  superflu,  chose  si  neces- 
saire,”  as  his  friend.  But  whatever  were  his  other  desires  and 
pursuits,  a visit  to  Bath, — to  that  place  which  contained  the  two 
persons  he  most  valued  in  friendship  and*  in  love, — was  the 
grand  object  of  all  his  financial  speculations ; and  among  other 
ways  and  means  that,  in  the  delay  of  the  expected  resources 
from  Aristsenetus,  presented  themselves,  was  an  exhibition  of 
£20  a year,  which  the  college  had  lately  given  him,  and  with 
five  pounds  of  which  he  thought  he  might  venture  adire 
Corinthum.” 

Though  Sheridan  had  informed  his  friend  that  the  translation 
was  put  to  press  some  time  in  March,  1771,  it  does  not  appear  to 
have  been  given  into  the  hands  of  Wilkie,  the  publisher,  till  the 
beginning  of  May,  when  Mr.  Ker  writes  thus  to  Bath:  ‘‘Your 
Aristaenetus  is  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Wilkie,  in  St.  Paul’s  Church- 
yard, and  to  put  you  out  of  suspense  at  once,  will  certainly  make 
his  appearance  about  the  first  of  June  next,  in  the  form  of  a neat 
volume,  price  Ss.  or  Ss.  6(/.,  as  may  best  suit  his  size,  &c.,  which 
cannot  be  more  nearly  determined  at  present.  I have  undertaken 


80 


MEMOIRS  OE  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


the  task  cf  correcting  for  the  press Some  of  the 

Epistles  that  I have  perused  seem  to  me  elegant  and  poetical ; in 
others  I could  not  observe  equal  beauty,  and  here  and  there  I 
could  wish  there  was  some  little  amendment.  You  will  pardon 
this  liberty  I take,  and  set  it  down  to  the  account  of  old-fashioned 
friendship.’’  Mr.  Ker,  to  judge  from  his  letters,  (which,  in  addi- 
tion to  their  other  laudable  points,  are  dated  with  a precision 
truly  exemplary,)  was  a very  kind,  useful,  and  sensible  person, 
and  in  the  sober  hue  of  his  intellect  exhibited  a striking  contrast? 
to  the  sparkling  vivacity  of  the  two  sanguine  and  impatient  young 
wits,  whose  affairs  he  so  good  naturedly  undertook  to  nego- 
tiate. 

At  length  in  August,  1771,  Aristaenetus  made  its  appearance 
— contrary  to  the  advice  of  the  bookseller,  and  of  Mr.  Ker,  who 
represented  to  Sheridan  the  unpropitiousness  of  the  season,  partic- 
ularly for  a first  experiment  in  authorship,  and  advised  the  post- 
^ ponement  of  the  publication  till  October.  But  the  translators 
were  too  eager  for  the  rich  harvest  of  emolument  they  had  pro- 
mised themselves,  and  too  full  of  that  pleasing  but  often  fatal  de- 
lusion— that  calenture,  under  the  influence  of  which  young  voya- 
gers to  the  shores  of  Fame  imagine  they  already  see  her  green 
fields  and  groves  in  the  treacherous  waves  around  them — to  listen 
to  the  suggestions  of  mere  calculating  men  of  business.  The  first 
account  they  heard  of  the  reception  of  the  work  was  flattering 
enough  to  prolong  awhile  this  dream  of  vanity.  ‘'*It  begins 
(writes  Mr.  Ker,  in  about  a fortnight  after  the  publication,)  to 
make  some  noise,  and  is  fathered  on  Mr.  Johnson,  author  of  the 
English  Dictionary,  &c.  See  to-day’s  Gazetteer.  The  critics  are 
admirable  in  discovering  a concealed  author  by  his  style,  man- 
ner, &c.” 

Their  disappointment  at  the  ultimate  failure  of  the  book  was 
proportioned,  we  may  suppose,  to  the  sanguineness  of  their  first 
expectations.  But  the  reluctance  with  w'hich  an  author  yields  to 
the  sad  certainty  of  being  unread,  is  apparent  in  the  eagerness 
with  which  Halhed  avails  himself  of  every  encouragement  for  a 
rally  of  h*s  hopes.  The  Critical  Reviewers,  it  seems,  had  given 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARH  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  31 


the  work  a tolerable  character,  and  quoted  the  first  Epistle."^ 
The  Weekly  Review  in  the  Public  Ledger  had  also  spoken  well 
of  it,  and  cited  a specimen.  The  Oxford  Magazine  had  tran- 
scribed two  whole  Epistles,  without  mentioning  from  whence  they 
were  taken.  Every  body,  he  says,  seemed  to  have  read  the 
book,  and  one  of  those  hawking  booksellers  who  attend  the  coffee- 
houses assured  him  it  was  written  by  Dr.  Armstrong,  author 
of  the  (Economy  of  Love.  On  the  strength  of  all  this  he  re- 
commends that  another  volume  of  the  Epistles  should  be  pub- 
lished immediately — being  of  opinion  that  the  readers  of  the  first 
volume  would  be  sure  to  purchase  the  second,  and  that  the  pub- 
lication of  the  second  would  put  it  in  the  heads  of  others  to  buy 
the  first.  Under  a sentence  containing  one  of  these  sanguine  an- 
ticipations, there  is  written,  in  Sheridan’s  hand,  the  word 
“ Quixote !” 

They  were  never,  of  course,  called  upon  for  the  second  part, 
and,  whether  we  consider  the  merits  of  the  original  or  of  the 
translation,  the  world  has  but  little  to  regret  in  the  loss.  Aristae- 
netus  is  one  of  those  weak,  florid  sophists,  who  flourished  in  the 
decline  and  degradation  of  ancient  literature,  and  strewed  their 
gaudy  flowers  of  rhetoric  over  the  dead  muse  of  Greece.  He  is 
evidently  of  a much  later  period  than  Alciphron,  to  whom  he  is 
also  very  inferier  in  purity  of  diction,  variety  of  subject,  and 
playfulness  of  irony.  But  neither  of  them  ever  deserved  to  be 
wakened  from  that  sleep,  in  which  the  commentaries  of  Bergler, 
De  Pauw,  and  a few  more  such  industrious  scholars  Rave  shroud- 
ed them. 

The  translators  of  AristsBnetus,  in  rendering  his  flowery  prose 
into  verse,  might  have  found  a precedent  and  model  for  their 
task  in  Ben  Jonson,  whose  popular  song,  “ Drink  to  me  only 
with  thine  eyes,”  is,  as  Mr.  Cumberland  first  remarked,  but  a 

* In  one  of  the  Reviews  I have  seen  it  thus  spoken  of ; — “ No  such  writer  as  Aristaene- 
tus  ever  existed  in  the  classic  aera  ; nor  did  even  the  unhappy  schools,  after  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  Eastern  empire,  produce  such  a writer.  It  was  left  to  the  latter  times  of  monk 
ish  imposition  to  give  such  trash  as  this,  on  which  the  translator  has  ill  spent  his  tune. 
We  have  been  as  idly  employed  in  reading  it,  and  our  readers  will  in  proportion  lose  then 
time  in  perusing  this  article.” 


82 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


piece  of  fanciful  mosaic,  collected  out  of  the  1 eve-letters  of  the 
sophist  Philostratus.  But  many  of  the  narrations  in  Aristaenetus 
are  incapable  of  being  elevated  into  poetry  ; and,  unluckily,  these 
familiar  parts  seem  chiefly  to  have  fallen* to  the  department  of 
Halhed,  who  was  far  less  gifted  than  his  coadjutor  with  that 
artist-like  touch,  which  polishes  away  the  mark  of  vulgarity,  and 
gives  an  air  of  elegance  even  to  poverty.  As  the  volume  is  not 
in  many  hands,  the  following  extract  from  one  of  the  Epistles 
may  be  acceptable — as  well  from  the  singularity  of  the  scene  de- 
scribed, as  from  the  specimen  it  aflbrds  of  the  merits  of  the 
translation : 

“ Listen — another  pleasure  I display, 

That  helped  delightfully  the  time  away. 

From  distant  vales,  where  bubbles  from  its_ source 
A crystal  rill,  they  dug  a winding  course  : 

See ! thro’  the  grove  a narrow  lake  extends. 

Crosses  each  plot,  to  each  plantation  bends ; 

And  while  the  fount  in  new  meanders  glides. 

The  forest  brightens  with  refreshing  tides. 

Tow’rds  us  they  taught  the  new-born  stream  to  flow, 

Tow’rds  us  it  crept,  irresolute  and  slow  ; 

Scarce  had  the  infant  current  crickled  by. 

When  lo  ! a wondrous  fleet  attracts  our  eye  ; 

Laden  with  draughts  might  greet  a monarch’s  tongue. 

The  mimic  navigation  swam  along. 

Hasten,  ye  ship-like  goblets,  down  the  vale, 

*Your  freight  a flagon,  and  a leaf  your  sail ; 

0 may  no  envious  rush  thy  course  impede. 

Or  floating  apple  stop  thy  tide-born  speed. 

His  mildest  breath  a gentle  zephyr  gave  ; 

The  little  vessels  trimly  stem’d  the  wave : 

' Their  precious  merchandise  to  land  they  bore. 

And  one  by  one  resign’d  the  balmy  store. 

Stretch  but  a hand,  we  boarded  them,  and  quaft 
With  native  luxury  the  temper’d  draught. 

For  where  they  loaded  the  nectareous  fleet. 

The  goblet  glow’d  with  too  intense  a heat ; 

♦ “ In  the  original,  this  luxurious  image  is  pursued  so  fur  that  the  very  leaf  which  is 
-epresented  as  the  sail  of  the*  vessel,  is  particularized  as  of  a medicinal  nature,  capable 
of  preventing  any  ill  cflects  the  wine  might  produce.” — JVote  by  the  Translator. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  33 


CooPd  by  degrees  in  these  convivial  ships, 

With  nicest  taste  it  met  our  thirsty  lips.^^ 

As  a scholar,  such  as  Halhed,  could  hardly  have  been  led  into 
ihe  mistake,  of  supposing  (puvjj  9UXX0V  to  mean  “a  leaf 

of  a medicinal  nature,”  we  may,  perhaps,  from  this  circumstance 
not  less  than  from  the  superior  workmanship  of  the  verses,  at- 
tribute the  whole  of  this  Epistle  and  notes  to  Sheridan. 

There  is  another  Epistle,  the  12th,  as  evidently  from  the  pen  of 
his  friend,  the  greater  part  of  which  is  original,  and  shows,  by  its 
raciness  and  vigor,  what  difference  there  is  between  “ the  first 
sprightly  runnings”  of  an  author’s  own  mind,  and  his  cold,  vapid 
transfusion  of  the  thoughts  of  another.  From  stanza  10th  to  the 
end  is  all  added  by  the  translator,  and  all  spirited — though  full  of 
a bold  defying  libertinism,  as  unlike  as  possible  to  the  effeminate 
lubricity  of  the  poor  sophist,  upon  whom,  in  a grave,  treacher- 
ous note,  the  responsibility  of  the  whole  is  laid.  But  by  far  the 
most  interesting  part  of  the  volume  is  the  last  Epistle  of  the 
book,  ‘‘  From  a Lover  resigning  his  Mistress  to  his  Friend,” — in 
which  Halhed  has  contrived  to  extract  from  the  unmeaningness 
of  the  original  a direct  allusion  to  his  own  fate ; and,  forgetting 
Aristasnetus  and  his  dull  personages,  thinks  only  of  himself,  and 
Sheridan,  and  Miss  Linley. 

Thee,  then,  my  Mend, — if  yet  a wretch  may  claim 
A last  attention  by  that  once  dear  name, — 

Thee  I address : — the  cause  you  must  approve  ; 

I yield  you — what  I cannot  cease  to  love. 

Be  thine  the  blissful  lot,  the  nymph  be  thine  : 

I yield  my  love, — sure,  friendship  may  be  mine. 

Yet  must  no  thought  of  me  torment  thy  breast : 

Forget  me,  if  my  griefs  disturb  thy  rest. 

Whilst  still  I’ll  pray  that  thou  may’st  never  know 
The  pangs  of  baffled  love,  or  feel  my  woe. 

But  sure  to  thee,  dear,  charming — fatal  maid ! 

(For  me  thou’st  charmed,  and  me  thou  hast  betray’d,) 

This  last  request  I need  not  recommend — 

Forget  the  lover  thou,  as  he  the  Mend. 

Bootless  such  charge ! for  ne’er  did  pity  move 
A heart  that  mock’d  the  suit  of  humble  love, 

2^ 


VOL.  I. 


34 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Yet,  in  some  thoughtful  hour — if  such  can  be, 

Where  love,  Timocrates,  is  join’d  with  thee — 

In  some  lone  pause  of  joy,  when  pleasures  pall, 

And  fancy  broods  o’er  joys  it  can’t  recall. 

Haply  a thought  of  me,  (for  thou,  my  friend, 

May’st  then  have  taught  that  stubborn  heart  to  bend,) 

A thought  of  him  whose  passion  was  not  weak. 

May  dash  one  transient  blush  upon  her  cheek  ; 

Haply  a tear — (for  I shall  surely  then 
Be  past  all  power  to  raise  her  scorn  again — ) 

Haply,  I say,  one  self-dried  tear  may  fall : — 

One  tear  she’ll  give,  for  whom  I yielded  all ! 

« * * « 

My  life  has  lost  its  aim ! — that  fatal  fair 
Was  all  its  object,  all  its  hope  or  care  : 

She  was  the  goal,  to  which  my  course  was  bent. 

Where  every  wish,  where  every  thought  was  sent ; 

A secret  influence  darted  from  her  eyes, — 

Each  look,  attraction,  and  herself  the  prize. 

Concentred  there,  I liv’d  for  her  alone  ; 

To  make  her  glad  and  to  be  blest  was  one. 
****** 

Adieu,  my  friend, — nor  blame  this  sad  adieu. 

Though  sorrow  guides  my  pen,  it  blames  not  you. 

Forget  me — ’tis  my  pray’r  ; nor  seek^to  know 
The  fate  of  him  whose  portion  must  be  woe, 

^ Till  the  cold  earth  outstretch  her  friendly  arms. 

And  Death  convince  me  that  he  can  have  charms.” 

But  Halhed’s  was  not  the  only  heart  that  sighed  deeply  and 
hopelessly  for  the  young  Maid  of  Bath,  who  appears,  indeed,  to 
have  spread  her  gentle  conquests  to  an  extent  almost  unparalleled 
in  the  annals  of  beauty.  Her  personal  charms,  the  exquisiteness 
of  her  musical  talents,  and  the  full  light  of  publicity  which 
her  profession  threw  upon  both,  naturally  attracted  round  her  a 
crowd  of  admirers,  in  whom  the  sympathy  of  a common  pursuit 
soon  kindled  into  rivalry,  till  she  became  at  length  an  object  of 
vanity  as  well  as  of  love.  Her  extreme  youth,  too, — ^for  she  was 
little  more  than  sixteen  when  Sheridan  first  met  her, — must  have 
removed,  even  from  minds  the  most  fastidious  and  delicate,  that 


EIGHT  HON.  EICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  35 


repugnance  they  might  justly  have  felt  to  her  profession,  if  she 
had  lived  much  longer  under  its  tarnishing  influence,  or  lost,  by 
frequent  exhibitions  before  the  public,  that  fine  gloss  of  femi- 
nine modesty,  for  whose  absence  not  all  the  talents  and  accom- 
plishments of  the  whole  sex  can  atone. 

She  had  been,  even  at  this  early  age,  on  the  point  of  marriage 
with  Mr.  Long,  an  old  gentleman  of  considerable  fortune  in  Wilt- 
shire, who  proved  the  reality  of  his  attachment  to  her  in  a way 
which  few  young  lovers  would  be  romantic  enough  to  imitate. 
On  her  secretly  representing  to  him  that  she  never  could  be  happy 
as  his  wife,  he  generously  took  upon  himself  the  whole  blame 
of  breaking  off*  the  alliance,  and  even  indemnified  the  father, 
who  was  proceeding  to  bring  the  transaction  into  court,  by 
settling  3000/.  upon  his  daughter.  Mr.  Sheridan,  who  owed  to 
this  liberal  conduct  not  only  the  possession  of  the  woman  he 
loved,  but  the  means  of  supporting  her  during  the  first  years  of 
their  marriage,  spoke  invariably  of  Mr.  Long,  who  lived  to  a 
very  advanced  age,  with  all  th^  kindness  and  respect  which  such 
a disinterested  character  merited. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  the  year  1770  that  the  Sheridans 
took  up  their  residence  in  King’s  Mead^  Street,  Bath,  where  an 
acquaintance  commenced  between  them  and  Mr.  Linley’s  family, 
which  the  kindred  tastes  of  the  young  people  soon  ripened  into 
intimacy.  It  was  not  to  be  expected, — though  parents,  in  gene- 
ral, are  as  blind  to  the  first  approach  of  these  dangers  as  they 
are  rigid  and  unreasonable  after  they  have  happened, — that  such 
youthful  poets  and  musiciansf  should  come  together  without 
Love  very  soon  making  one  of  the  party.  Accordingly  the  two 
brothers  became  deeply  enamored  of  Miss  Linley.  Her  heart, 
however,  was  not  so  wholly  un-preoccupied  as  to  yield  at  once 
to  the  passion  which  her  destiny  had  in  store  for  her.  One  of 
those  transient  preferences,  wdiich  in  early  youth  are  mistaken 

* They  also  lived,  during  a part  of  their  stay  at  Bath,  m New  Eling  Street. 

t Dr.  Burney,  in  his  Biographical  Sketch  of  Mr.  Linley,  written  for  Rees’  Cyclopjcdia, 
calls  the  Linley  family  “a  nest  of  nightingales.”  The  only  surviving  member  of  this 
accomplished  family  is  Mr.  William  Linley,  whose  taste  and  talent,  both  in  poetry  and 
tiiusic,  most  worthily  sustain  the  reputation  of  the  name  that  he  bears. 


S6  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

foi*  love,  had  already  taken  lively  possession  of  her  imagina- 
tion ; and  to  this  the  following  lines,  written  at  that  time  by  Mr. 
Sheridan,  allude : 

TO  THE  RECORDING  ANGEL. 

Cherub  of  Heaven,  that  from  my  secret  stand 
Dost  note  the  follies  of  each  mortal  here, 

Oh,  if  Eliza’s  steps  employ  thy  hand, 

Blot  the  sad  legend  with  a mortal  tear. 

Nor  when  she  errs,  through  passion’s  wild  extreme, 

Mark  then  her  course,  nor  heed  each  trifling  wrong  ; 

Nor,  when  her  sad  attachment  is  her  theme, 

Note  down  the  transports  of  her  erring  tongue. 

But,  when  she  sighs  for  sorrows  not  her  own, 

Let  that  dear  sigh  to  Mercy’s  cause  be  given  ; 

And  bear  that  tear  to  her  Creator’s  throne. 

Which  glistens  in  the  eye  upraised  to  Heaven ! 

But  in  love,  as  in  everything  else,  the  power  of  a mind  like 
Sheridan’s  must  have  made  itself  felt  through  all  obstacles  and 
difficulties.  He  was  not  long  in  winning  the  entire  affections  of 
tlie  young  “ Syren,’'  though  the  number  and  w'ealth  of  his  rivals, 
the  ambitious  views  of  her  father,  and  the  temptations  to  which 
she  herself  was  hourly  exposed,  kept  his  jealousies  and  fears 
perpetually  on  the  watch.  He  is  supposed,  indeed,  to  have  been 
indebted  to  self-observation  for  that  portrait  of  a wayward  and 
morbidly  sensitive  lover,  which  he  has  drawn  so  strikingly  in  the 
character  of  Falkland. 

With  a mind  in  this  state  of  feverish  wakefulness,  it  is  remarka- 
ble that  he  should  so  long  have  succeeded  in  concealing  his 
attachment  from  the  eyes  of  those  most  interested  in  discovering 
it.  Even  his  brother  Charles  was  for  some  time  wholly  unaware 
of  their  rivalry,  and  went  on  securely  indulging  in  a passion 
which  it  was  hardly  possible,  with  such  opportunities  of  inter- 
course, to  resist,  and  which  survived  long  after  Miss  Linley’s 
selection  of  another  had  extinguished  every  hope  in  his  heart,  but 
that  of  seeing  her  happy.  Halhed,  too,  who  at  that  period  cor- 
responded constantly  with  Sheridan,  and  confided  to  him  the 


BIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  37 


love  with  which  he  also  had  been  inspired  by  this  enchantress^ 
was  for  a length  of  time  left  in  the  same  darkness  upon  the  sub- 
ject, and  without  the  slightest  suspicion  that  the  epidemic  had 
reached  his  friend,  whose  only  mode  of  evading  the  many  ten- 
der inquiries  and  messages  with  which  Halhed’s  letters  abounded, 
was  by  referring  to  answers  which  had  by  some  strange  fatality 
miscarried,  and  which,  we  may  conclude,  without  much  unchari- 
tableness,  had  never  been  written. 

Miss  Linley  went  frequently  to  Oxford,  to  perform  at  the 
oratorios  and  concerts  ; and  it  may  easily  be  imagined  that  the 
ancient  allegory  of  the  Muses  throwing  chains  over  Cupid  was 
here  reversed,  and  the  quiet  shades  of  learning  not  a little  dis- 
turbed by  the  splendor  of  these  ‘‘  angel  visits.  ” The  letters  of 
Halhed  give  a lively  idea,  not  only  of  his  own  intoxication,  but 
of  the  sort  of  contagious  delirium,  like  that  at  Abdera  described 
by  Lucian,  with  which  the  young  men  of  Oxford  were  affected  by 
this  beautiful  girl.  In  describing  her  singing  he  quotes  part  of 
a Latin  letter  which,  he  himself  had  written  to  a friend  upon  first 
hearing  her ; and  it  is  a curious  proof  of  the  readiness  of  Sheri- 
dan, notwithstanding  his  own  fertility,  to  avail  himself  of  the 
thoughts  of  others,  that  we  find  in  this  extract,  word  for  word, 
the  same  extravagant  comparison  of  the  effects  of  music  to  the 
process  of  Egyptian  embalmment — “ extracting  the  brain  through 
the  ears  ” — which  was  afterwards  transplanted  into  the  dialogue 
of  the  Duenna  : “ Moj'tuum  quondam  ante  ^gypti  medici  quarr. 
pollincirent  cerehella  de  aurihus  unco  quodam  hamo  solehant  ex- 
irahere  ; sic  de  meis  aurihus  non  cerebrum,  sed  cor  ipsum  exhausil 
lusciniola,  &c,,  cfcc.”  He  mentions,  as  the  rivals  most  dreaded 
by  her  admirers,  Norris,  the  singer,  whose  musical  talents,  it 
was  thought,  recommended  him  to  her,  and  Mr.  Watts,  a gen- 
tleman commoner,  of  very  large  fortune. 

While  all  hearts  and  tongues  were  thus  occupied  about  Miss 
Linley,  it  is  not  wonderful  that  rumors  of  matrimony  and  elope- 
ment should,  from  time  to  time,  circulate  among  her  apprehen- 
sive admirers ; or  that  the  usual  ill-compliment  should  be  paid 
to  her  sex  of  supposing  that  wealth  must  be  the  winner  cf  tiu’ 


38 


MEMOIRS  OE  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


prize.  It  was  at  one  moment  currently  reported  at  Oxford  that 
she  had  gone  off  to  Scotland  with  a young  man  of  £3,000  a 
year,  and  the  panic  which  the  intelligence  spread  is  described  in 
one  of  these  letters  to  Sheridan^  (whq,  no  doubt,  shared  in  it)  as 
producing  “ long  faces  ” everywhere.  Not  only,  indeed,  among 
her  numerous  lovers,  but  among  all  who  delighted  in  her  public 
performances,  an  alarm  would  naturally  be  felt  at  the  prospect 
of  her  becoming  private  property  : 

“ Te  jug  a Taygeti,  posito  te  Mcenala  jiehunt 
Venatu^  mcestoque  diu  lugehere  Cyntho, 

Delphica  quinetiam  fratris  deluhra  tacehuntJ^* 

Thee,  thee,  when  hurried  from  our  eyes  away, 

Laconia’s  hills  shall  mourn  for  many  a day — 

^ The  Arcadian  hunter  shall  forget  his  chase. 

And  turn  aside  to  think  upon  that  face  ; 

While  many  an  hour  Apollo’s  songless  shrine 
Shall  wait  in  silence  for  a voice  like  thine ! 

But  to  the  honor  of  her  sex,  which  is,  in 'general,  more  disin- 
terested than  the  other,  it  was  found  that  neither  rank  nor 
wealth  had  influenced  her  heart  in  its  election  ; and  Halhed,  who, 
like  others,  had  estimated  the  strength  of  his  rivals  by  their 
rent-rolls,  discovered  at  last  that  his  unpretending  friend,  Sheri- 
dan, (whose  advances  in  courtship  and  in  knowledge  seem  to  have 
been  equally  noiseless  and  triumphant,)  was  the  chosen  favorite  of 
her,  at  whose  feet  so  many  fortunes  lay.  Like  that  Saint,  Cecilia, 
by  whose  name  she  was  always  called,  she  had  long  welcomed 
to  her  soul  a secret  visitant, f whose  gifts  were  of  a higher  and 
more  radiant  kind  than  the  mere  wealthy  and  lordly  of  this 
world  can  proffer.  A letter,  written  by  Halhed  on  the  prospect 
of  his  departure  for  India,  J alludes  so  delicately  to  this  discovery, 

♦ Claudian.  De  Rapt.  Proserp.  Lib.  ii.  v.  244. 

f “ The  youth,  found  in  her  chamber,  had  in  his  hand  two  crowns  or  wreaths,  the  one 
of  lilies,  the  other  of  roses,  which  he  had  brought  from  Paradise.” — Legend  of  St. 
Cecilia. 

J The  letter  is  evidently  in  answer  to  one  which  he  had  just  received  from  Sheridan,  in 
which  Miss  Linley  had  written  a few  words  expressive  of  her  wishes  for  his  health  and 
nappineas.  Mr.  Halhed  sailed  for  India  about  the  latter  end  of  this  year. 


MGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BiUNSLEY  SHERIDAN. 

and  describes  the  state*  of  his  own  heart  so  mournfully,  that  I 
must  again,  in  parting  with  him  and  his  correspondence,  express 
the  strong  regret  that  I feel  at  not  being  able  to  indulge  the 
reader  with  a perusal  of  these  letters.  Not  only  as  a record  of 
the  first  short  flights  of  -Sheridan’s  genius,  but  as  a picture,  from 
the  life,  of  the  various  feelings  of  youth,  its  desires  and  fears,  its 
feverish  hopes  and  fanciful  melancholy,  they  could  not  have 
failed  to  be  rea^l  with  the  deepest  interest. 

To  this  perM  of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  life  we  are  indebted  for  most 
of  those  elegant  love-verses,  which  are  so  well  known  and  so 
often  quoted.  TheAines  “ Uncouth  is  this  moss-covered  grotto  of 
stone,”  were  addressed  to  Miss  Linley,  after  having  offended  her 
by  one  of  those  lectures  upon  decorum  of  conduct,  which  jealous 
lovers  so  f/.cquently  inflict  upon  their  mistresses, — and  the  grotto, 
immortaljAed  by  their  quarrel,  is  supposed  to  have  been  hi  Spring 
Gardens,  Ihen  the  fashionable  place  of  resort  in  Bath. 

I have  elsewhere  remarked  that  the  conceit  in  the  following 
resembles  a thought  in  some  verses  of  Angerianus  : — 

And  thou,  stony  grot,  in  thy  arch  may’st  preserve 
Two  lingering  drops  of  the  night-fallen  dew, 

Let  them  fall  on  her  bosom  of  snow,  and  theydl  serve 
As  tears  of  my  sorrow  entrusted  to  you. 

At  quum  per  niveam  cervicem  influxerit  humor 
Dicite  non  roris  sed  pluvia  hcec  lacrimce. 

Whether  Sheridan  was  likely  to  have  been  a reader  of  Ange- 
rianus is,  I think,  doubtful — at  all  events  the  coincidence  is  curious. 

“ Dry  be  that  tear,  my  gentlest  love,”  is  supposed  to  have 
been  written  at  a later  period ; but  it  was  most  probably  pro- 
duced at  the  time  of  his  courtship,  for  he  wrote  but  few  love 
verses  after  his  marriage — like  the  nightingale  (as  a French 
editor  of  Bonefonius  says,  in  remarking  a similar  circumstance  of 
that  poet)  ‘‘  qui  developpe  le  charme  de  sa  voix  tant  qu’il  vent 
plaire  a sa  compagne — sont-ils  unis  ? il  se  tait,  il  n’a  plus  le  be- 
soin  de  lui  plaire.”  This  song  having  been  hitherto  printed  in- 
correctly, I shall  give  it  here,  as  it  is  in  the  copies  preserved  by 
his  relations. 


40 


MEMOIRS  OP  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Dry  be  that  tear,  my  gentlest  love,* 

Be  hush’d  that  struggling  sigh. 

Nor  seasons,  day,  nor  fate  shall  prove 
More  fix’d,  more  true  than  I. 

Hush’d  be  that  sigh,  be  dry  that  tear. 

Cease  boding  doubt,  cease  anxious  fear. — 

Dry.  be  that  tear. 

Ask’st  thou  how  long  my  love  will  stay. 

When  all  that’s  new  is  past ; — 

How  long,  ah  Delia,  can  I say 
How  long  my  life  will  last  ? 

Dry  be  that  tear,  be  hush’d  that  sigh. 

At  least  I’ll  love  thee  till  I die. — 

Hush’d  be  that  sigh. 

And  does  that  thought  affect  thee  too. 

The  thought  of  Sylvio’s  death. 

That  he  who  only  breathed  for  you. 

Must  yield  that  faithful  breath? 

Hush’d  be  that  sigh,  be  dry  that  tear. 

Nor  let  us  lose  our  Heaven  here. — 

Dry  be  that  tear. 

There  is  in  the  second  stanza  here  a close  resemblance  to  one 
of  the  madrigals  of  Montreuil,  a French  poet,  to  whom  Sir  J. 
Moore  was  indebted  for  the  point  of  his  well  known  verses,  If 
in  that  breast,  so  good,  so  pure.”f  Mr.  Sheridan,  however,  knew 
nothing  of  French,  and  neglected  every  opportunity  of  learning 
it,  till,  by  a very  natural  process,  his  ignorance  of  the  language 
grew  into  hatred  of  it.  Besides,  we  have  the  immediate  source 
from  which  he  derived  the  thought  of  this  stanza,  in  one  of  the 
essays  of  Hume,  who,  being  a reader  of  foreign  literature,  most 

* An  Elegy  by  Halhed,  transcribed  in  one  of  his  letters  to  Sheridan,  begins  thus 
“ Dry  be  that  tear,  be  hush’d  that  struggling  sigh.” 
f The  grief  that  on  my  quiet  preys, 

That  rends  my  heart  and  checks  my  longue, 

I fear  will  last  me  all  my  days. 

And  feel  it  will  not  last  me  long. 

It  is  thus  in  Montreuil . 

C’est  un  mal  que  j’aurai  tout  le  terns  de  ma  vie 
Mais  je  ne  I’aurai  pas  long-terns. 


RIGHT  HOH.  RlCHARi)  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  41 


probably  found  it  In  Montreuil."^  The  passage  in  Hume  (which 
Sheridan  has  done  little  more  than  versify)  is  as  follows  : — ‘‘  Why 
so  often  ask  me.  How  long  my  love  shall  yet  endure  ? Alas,  my 
Caelia,  can  I resolve  the  question  ? I)o  I know  how  long  my  life 
shall  yet  endure 

The  pretty  lines,  “ Mark’d  you  her  cheek  of  rosy  hue  were 
written  not  upon  Miss  Linley,  as  has  been  generally  stated,  but 
upon  Lady  Margaret  Fordyce,  and  form  part  of  a poem  which 
he  published  in  1771,  descriptive  of  the  principal  beauties  of 
Bath,  entitled  “ Clio’s  Protest,  or  the  Picture  varnished,” — being 
an  answer  to  some  verses  by  Mr.  Miles  Peter  Andrews,  called 
“ The  Bath  Picture,”  in  which  Lady  Margaret  was  thus  intro- 
duced : 

“ Remark  too  the  dimpling,  sweet  smile 
Lady  Margaret’s  fine  countenance  wears.” 

The  following  is  the  passage  in  Mr.  Sheridan’s  poem,  entire ; 
and  the  beauty  of  the  six  favorite  lines  shines  out  so  conspicuously, 
that  we  cannot  wonder  at  their  having  been  so  soon  detached, 
like  ill-set  gems,  from  the  loose  and  clumsy  workmanship  around 
them. 

But,  hark ! — did  not  our  bard  repeat 
The  love-born  name  of  M-rg-r-t  ? — 

Attention  seizes  every  ear  ; 

We  pant  for  the  description  here : 

If  ever  dulness  left  thy  brow, 

‘ Pindar,’’  we  say,  ^ ’twill  leave  thee  now.^ 

But  0 ! old  Dulness’  son  anointed 
His  mother  never  disappointed! — 

And  here  we  all  were  left  to  seek 
A dimple  in  F-rd-ce’s  cheek ! 

* Or  in  an  Italian  song  of  Menage,  from  which  Montreuil,  who  w'’^  accustomed  to 
such  thefts,  most  probably  stole  it.  The  point  in  the  Italian  is,  as  far  as  I can  remember 
it,  expressed  thus  : 

In  van,  o Filli,  tu  chiedi 
Se  lungamente  durera  I’ardore 
« * 4:  « ♦ 

Chi  lo  potrebbe  dire  ? 

Incerta,  o Filli,  e I’ora  del  morire 

f The  Epicurean. 


42  memoirs  of  tSe  life  of  the 

And  could  you  really  discover, 

In  gazing  those  sweet  beauties  over, 

No  other  charm,  no  winning  grace. 

Adorning  either  mind  or  face. 

But  one  poor  dimple  to  express 
The  quintessence  of  loveliness  ? 

Mark’d  you  her  cheek  of  rosy  hue? 

Mark’d  you  her  eye  of  sparkling  blue  ? 

That  eye  in  liquid  circles  moving ; 

That  cheek  abash’d  at  Man’s  approving  ; 

The  one,  Love’s  arrows  darting  round  ; 

The  other,  blushing  at  the  wound  : 

Did  she  not  speak,  did  she  not  move. 

Now  P alias the  Queen  of  Love !” 

There  is  little  else  in  this  poem  worth  being  extracted,  tnougn 
it  consists  of  about  four  hundred  lines  ; except,  perhaps,  his  pic- 
ture of  a good  country  housewife,  which  affords  an  early  speci- 
men of  that  neat  pointedness  of  phrase,  which  gave  his  humor, 
both  poetic  and  dramatic,  such  a peculiar  edge  and  polish : — 

‘‘We  see  the  Dame,  in  rustic  pride, 

A bunch  of  keys  to  grace  her  side, . 

Stalking  across  the  well-swept  entry. 

To  hold  her  council  in  the  pantry  ; 

Or,  with  prophetic  soul,  foretelling 
The  peas  will  boil  well  by  the  shelling ; 

Or,  bustling  in  her  private  closet. 

Prepare  her  lord  his  morning  posset ; 

And,  while  the  hallowed  mixture  thickens. 

Signing  death-warrants  for  the  chickens  : 

Else,  greatly  pensive,  poring  o’er 
Accounts  her  cook  had  thumbed  before  ; 

One  eye  cast  up  upon  that  great  book, 

Yclep’d  The  Family  Receipt  Book ; 

By  which  she’s  ruled  in  all  her  courses. 

From  stewing  figs  to  drenching  horses. 

— Then  pans  and  pickling  skillets  rise. 

In  dreadful  lustre,  to  our  eyes, 

With  store  of  sweetmeats,  rang’d  in  order, 

And  potted  nothings  on  the  border  ; 

While  salves  and  caudle-cups  between. 

With  squalling  children,  close  the  scene.’^ 


HI^HT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  43 

We  find  here,  too,  the  source  of  one  of  those  familiar  lines, 
which  so  many  quote  without  knowing  whence  they  come ; — one 
of  those  stray  fragments,  whose  parentage  is  doubtful,  but  to 
which  (as  the  law  says  of  illegitimate  children)  pater  est  pop- 
ulusP 

You  write  with  ease,  to  show  your  breeding, 

Blit  easy  writing's  curst  hard  reading,^^ 

In  the  following  passage,  with  more  of  the  tact  of  a man  of  the 
world  than  the  ardor  of  a poet,  he  dismisses  the  object  nearest 
his  heart  with  the  mere  passing  gallantry  of  a compliment : — 

0 ! should  your  genius  ever  rise. 

And  make  you  Laureate  in  the  skies, 

I’d  hold  my  life,  in  twenty  years. 

You’d  spoil  the  music  of  the  spheres, 

— Nay,  should  the  rapture-breathing  Nine 
In  one  celestial  concert  join. 

Their  sovereign’s  power  to  rehearse, 

— Were  you  to  furnish  them  with  verse. 

By  Jove,  I’d  fly  the  heavenly  throng. 

Though  Phoebus  play’d  and  Linley  sung.” 

On  the  opening  of  the  New  Assembly  Rooms  at  Bath,  which 
commenced  with  a ridotto,  Sept.  30,  1771,  he  wrote  a humorous 
description  of  the  entertainment,  called  “ An  Epistle  from  Timo- 
thy Screw  to  his  Brother  Henry,  Waiter  at  Almack’s,”  which  ap- 
peared first  in  the  Bath  Chronicle,  and  was  so  eagerly  sought  af- 
ter, that  Crutwell,  the  editor,  was  induced  to  publish  it  in  a sepa- 
rate form.  The  allusions  in  this  trifle  have,  of  course,  lost  their 
zest  by  time ; and  a specimen  or  two  of  its  humor  will  be  all 
that  necessary  here. 

Two  rooms  were  first  opened — the  long  and  the  round  one, 

(These  Hogstyegon  names  only  serve  to  confound  one,) 

Both  splendidly  lit  with  the  new  chandeliers, 

Wity  drops  hanging  down  like  the  bobs  at  Peg’s  ears : 

While  jewels  of  paste  reflected  the  rays. 

And  Bristol-stone  diamonds  gave  strength  to  the  blaze ; 


44 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


So  that  it  was  doubtful,  to  view  the  bright  clusters, 

Which  sent  the  most  light  out,  the  ear-rings  or  lustres. 
**#•*♦* 

Nor  less  among  you  was  the  medley,  ye  fair ! 

I believe  there  were  some  besides  quality  there : 

Miss  Sjpiggot,  Miss  Brussels,  Miss  Tape,  and  Miss  Socket, 

Miss  Trinket,  and  aunt,  with  her  leathern  pocket. 

With  good  Mrs.  Soaker,  who  made  her  old  chin  go, 

For  hours,  hobnobbing  with  Mrs.  Syringo : 

Had  Tib  staid  at  home,  I b’lieve  none  would  have  miss’d  her, 
Or  pretty  Peg  Runt,  with  her  tight  little  sister,*  rfec.  &c. 


MOHT  HON.  KIOHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  45 


OHAPTBE  II. 

DUELS  WITH  MR.  MATHEWS. — MARRIAGE  WITH 
MISS  LINLEY. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  year  1771,  the  elder  Mr.  Sheridan 
went  to  Dublin,  to  perform  at  the  theatre  of  that  city, — leaving 
his  young  and  lively  family  at  Bath,  with  nothing  but  their  hearts 
and  imaginations  to  direct  them. 

The  following  letters,  which  passed  between  him  and  his  son 
Richard  during  his  absence,  though  possessing  little  other  inter- 
est than  that  of  having  been  written  at  such  a period,  will  not, 
perhaps,  be  unwelcome  to  the  reader  : — 

•‘My  Dear  Richard,  Dublin,  Dec.  1771. 

“ How  could  you  be  so  wrong-headed  as  to  commence  cold 
bathing  at  such  a season  of  the  year,  and  I suppose  without  any 
preparation  too  % You  have  paid  sufficiently  for  your  folly,  but 
I hope  the  ill  effects  of  it  have  been  long  since  over.  You  and 
your  brother  are  fond  of  quacking,  a most  dangerous  disposition 
with  regard  to  health.  Let  slight  things  pass  away  themselves  ; 
in  a case  that  requires  assistance  do  nothing  without  advice.  Mr. 
Crook  is  a very  able  man  in  his  way.  Should  a physician  be  at  any 
time  wanting,  apply  to  Dr.  Nesbitt,  and  tell  him  at  leaving  Bath 
I recommended  you  all  to  his  care.  This  indeed  I intended  to 
have  mentioned  to  him,  but  it  slipped  my  memory.  I forgot  Mr 
Crook’s  bill,  too,  but  desire  I may  have  the  amount  by  the  next 
letter.  Pray  what  is  the  meaning  of  my  hearing  so  seldom  from 
Bath  % Six  weeks  here,  and  but  two  letters  ! You  were  very 
tardy  ; what  are  your  sisters  about  ? I shall  not  easily  forgive 
^y  future  omissions.  I suppose  Charles  received  my  answer  to 


46 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


his,  and  the  20Z.  from  Whately.  I shall  order  another  to  be  sent 
at  Christmas  for  the  rent  and  other  necessaries.  I have  not  time 
at  present  to  enter  upon  the  subject  of  English  authors,  &c.  but 
shall  write  to  you  upon  that  head  when  I get  a little  leisure.  No 
thing  can  be  conceived  in  a more  deplorable  state  than  the  stage 
of  Dublin.  1 found  two  miserable  companies  opposing  and 
starving  each  other.  I chose  the  least  bad  of  them  ; and,  wretched 
as  they  are,  it  has  had  no  effect  on  my  nights,  numbers  having 
been  turned  away  every  time  I played,  and  the  receipts  have 
been  larger  than  when  I had  Barry,  his  wife,  and  Mrs.  Fitz-Henry 
to  play  with  me.  However,  I shall  not  be  able  to  continue  it 
long,  as  there  is  no  possibility  of  getting  up  a sufficient  number 
of  plays  with  such  poor  materials.  I purpose  to  have  done  the 
week  after  next,  and  apply  vigorously  to  the  material  point  which 
brought  me  over.  I find  all  ranks  and  parties  very  zealous  for 
forwarding  my  scheme,  and  have  reason  to  believe  it  will  be  car 
ried  in  parliament  after  the  recess,  without  opposition.  It  was  in 
vain  to  have  attempted  it  before,  for  never  was  party  violence* 
carried  to  such  a height  as  in  this  sessions ; . the  House  seldom 
breaking  up  till  eleven  or  twelve  at  night.  From  these  contests, 
the  desire  of  improving  in  the  article  of  elocution  is  become  very 
general.  There  are  no  less  than  five  persons  of  rank  and  for- 
tune now  waiting  my  leisure  to  become  my  pupils.  Eemember 
me  to  all  friends,  particularly  to  our  good  landlord  and  landlady. 
I am,  with  love  and  blessing  to  you  all, 

‘‘Your  affectionate  hither, 

“Thomas  Sheridan. 

“ P.  S. — Tell  your  sisters  I shall  send  the  poplins  as  soon  as 
can  get  an  opportunity.’’ 

“Dear  Father, 

“We  have  been  for  some  time  in  hopes  of  receiving  a setter, 
that  we  might  know  that  you  had  acquitted  us  of  neglect  in 
A\Titin^.  At  the  same  time  we  imao:ine  that  the  time  is  not  far 

o o 

The  money-bill,  brought  forward  this  year  under  Lord  Townsend’s  adminisiratiort^ 
encountered  violent  opposition,  and  was  finally  rejected. 


EIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  47 

when  writing  will  be  unnecessary ; and  we  cannot  help  wishing 
to  know  the  posture  of  the  affairs,  which,  as  you  have  not  talked 
of  returning,  seem  probable  to  detain  you  longer  than  you  in- 
tended. I am  perpetually  asked  when  Mr.  Sheridan  is  to  have 
his  patent  for  the  theatre,  which  all  the  Irish  here  take  for  granted, 
and  I often  receive  a great  deal  of  information  from  them  on  the 
subject.  Yet  I cannot  help  being  vexed  when  I see  in  the  Dub- 
lin papers  such  bustling  accounts  of  the  proceedings  of  your 
House  of  Commons,  as  I remember  it  was  your  argument  against 
attempting  any  thing  from  parliamentary  authority  in  England. 
However,  the  folks  here  regret  you,  as  one  that  is  to  be  fixed  in 
another  kingdom,  and  will  scarcely  believe  that  you  wiU  ever 
visit  Bath  at  all ; and  we  are  often  asked  if  we  have  not  received 
the  letter  which  is  to  call  us  over. 

“ I could  scarcely  have  conceived  that  the  winter  was  so  near 
departing,  were  I not  now  writing  after  dinner  by  daylight.  In- 
deed the  first  winter-season  is  not  yet  over  at  Bath.  They  have 
balls,  concerts,  &c.  at  the  rooms,  from  the  old  subscription  still, 
and  the  spring  ones  are  immediately  to  succeed  them.  They  are 
likewise  going  to  perform  oratorios  here.  Mr.  Linley  and  his 
whole  family,  down  to  the  seven  year  olds,  are  to  support  one 
set  at  the  new  rooms,  and  a band  of  singers  from  London  another 
at  the  old.  Our  weather  here,  or  the  effects  of  it,  have  been  so 
uninviting  to  all  kinds  of  birds,  that  there  has  not  been  the  small- 
est excuse  to  take  a gun  into  the  fields  this  winter ; — a point  more 
to  the  regret  of  Charles  than  myself. 

“We  are  all  now  in  dolefuls  for  the  Princess  Dowager;  but 
as  there  was  no  necessity  for  our  being  dressed  or  weeping  mourn- 
ers, we  were*  easily  provided.  Our  acquaintances  stand  pretty 
much  the  same  as  when  you  left^s, — only  that  I tliink  in  general 
we  are  less  intimate,  by  which  I believe  you  will  not  tliinlc  us 
great  losers.  Indeed,  excepting  Mr.  Wyndham,  I have  not  met 
with  one  person  with  whom  I would  v/ish  to  be  intimate ; though 
there  was  a Mr.  Lutterel,  (brother  to  the  Colonel,) — who  was 
some  months  ago  introduced  to  me  by  an  old  Harrow  acquaint- 
ance,~who  made  me  many  professions  at  parting,  and  wanted 


48 


MEMOIEB  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


me  vastly  to  name  some  way  in  which  he  could  be  useful  to  me ; 
but  the  relying  on  acquaintances^  or  seeking  of  friendships,  is  a 
fault  which  I think  I shall  always  have  prudence  to  avoid. 

“ Lissy  begins  to  be  tormented  again  with  the  tooth-ache 
otherwise,  we  are  all  well. 

“ I am,  Sir,  your  sincerely  dutiful  and  affectionate  son, 

“ Friday,  Feb,  29.  “ R.  B.  Sheridan. 

“ I beg  you  will  not  judge  of  my  attention  to  the  improvemeut 
of  my  hand-writing  by  this  letter,  as  I am  out  of  the  way  of  a 
better  pen.” 

Charles  Sheridan,  now  one-and-twenty,  the  oldest  and  gravest 
of  the  party,  finding  his  passion  for  Miss  Linley  increase  every 
day,  and  conscious  of  the  imprudence  of  yielding  to  it  any  fur- 
ther, wisely  determined  to  fly  from  the  struggle  altogether. 
Having  taken  a solemn  farewell  of  her  in  a letter,  which  his 
)^oungest  sister  delivered,  he  withdrew  to  a farm-house  about 
seven  or  eight  miles  from  Bath,  little  suspecting  that  he  left  his 
brother  in  full  possession  of  that  heart,  of  which  he  thus  reluc- 
tantly and  hopelessly  raised  the  siege.  Nor  would  this  secret 
perhaps  have  been  discovered  for  some  time,  had  not  another 
lover,  of  a less  legitimate  kind  than  either,  by  the  alarming  im- 
portunity of  his  courtship,  made  an  explanation  on  all  sides  ne- 
cessary. 

Captain  Mathews,  a married  man  and  intimate  with  Miss  Lin- 
ley’s  family,  presuming  upon  the  innocent  familiarity  which  her 
youth  and  his  own  station  permitted  between  them,  had  for  some 
time  not  only  rendered  her  remarkable  by  his  indiscreet  atten- 
tions in  public,  but  had  even  persecuted  her  in  private  w^ith  those 
unlawful  addresses  and  prop(*als,  wdiich  a timid  female  wdll 
sometimes  rather  endure,  than  encounter  that  share  of  the  shame, 
which  may  be  reflected  upon  herself  by  their  disclosure.  To  the 
threat  of  self-destruction,  often  tried  with  effect  in  these  cases,  he 
is  said  to  have  added  the  still  more  unmanly  menace  of  ruining, 
at  least,  her  reputation,  if  he  could  not  undermine  her  virtue. 
Terrified  by  his  perseverance,  and  dreading  the  consequences  oi 


BIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  49 


her  father’s  temper,  if  this  violation  of  his  confidence  and  hospi- 
tality were  exposed  to  him,  she  at  length  confided  her  distresses 
to  Richard  Sheridan ; who,  having  consulted  with  his  sister,  and, 
foi  the  first  time,  disclosed  to  her  the  state  of  his  heart  with  re- 
spect to  Miss  Linley,  lost  no  time  in  expostulating  with  Mathews, 
upon  the  cruelty,  libertinism,  and  fruitlessness  of  his  pursuit. 
Such  a remonstrance,  however,  was  but  little  calculated  to  con- 
ciliate the  forbearance  of  this  professed  man  of  gallantry,  who, 
it  appears  by  the  following  allusion  to  him  under  the  name  of  Lo- 
thario, in  a poem  written  by  Sheridan  at  the  time,  still  counted 
upon  the  possibility  of  gaining  his  object,  or,  at  least,  blighting 
the  fruit  which  he  could  not  reach : — 

Nor  spare  the  flirting  Cassoc^d  rogue , 

Nor  ancient  Cullin^s  polish’d  brogue  ; 

Nor  gay  Lothario^ s nobler  name, 

That  Nimrod  to  all  female  fame. 

In  consequence  of  this  persecution,  and  an  increasing  dislike  to 
her  profession,  w^hich  made  her  shrink  more  and  more  from  the 
gaze  of  the  many,  in  proportion  as  she  became  devoted  to  the 
love  of  one,  she  adopted,  early  in  1772,  the  romantic  resolution 
of  flying  secretly  to  France  and  taking  refuge  in  a convent, — in- 
tending, at  the  same  time,  to  indemnify  her  father,  to  whom  she 
was  bound  till  the  age  of  21,  by  the  surrender  to  him  of  part  of 
the  sum  which  Mr.  Long  had  settled  upon  her.  Sheridan,  who, 
it  is  probable,  had  been  the  chief  adviser  of  her  flight,  was,  of 
course,  not  slow  in  oflering  to  be  the  pa;rtner  of  it.  His  sister, 
whom  he  seems  to  have  persuaded  that  his  conduct  in  this  aflliir 
arose  solely  from  a wish  to  serve  Miss  Linley,  as  a friend,  with- 
out any  design  or  desire  to  take  advantage  of  her  elopement,  as 
a lover,  not  only  assisted  them  with  money  out  of  her  little  fund 
for  house-expenses,  but  gave  them  letters  of  introduction  to  a 
family  with  whom  she  had  been  acquainted  at  St.  Quentin.  On 
the  evening  appointed  for  their  departure, — while  Mr.  Linley, 
his  eldest  son,  and  Miss  Maria  Linley,  were  engaged  at  a con- 
cert, from  which  the  young  Cecilia  herself  had  been,  on  a plea  of 
VOL.  I.  3 


60 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


illness,  excused, — she  was  conveyed  by  Sheridan  in  a sedan-chair 
from  her  father’s  house  in  the  Crescent,  to  a post-chaise  which 
waited  for  them  on  the  London  road,  and  in  which  she  found  a 
woman  whom  her  lover  had  hired,  as  a sort  of  protecting  Mi- 
nerva, to  accompany  them  in  their  flight. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  Sheridan  was  at  this  time  little  more 
than  twenty,  and  his  companion  just  entering  her  eighteenth 
year.  On  their  arrival  in  London,  with  an  adroitness  which 
was,  at  least,  very  dramatic,  he  introduced  her  to  an  old  friend 
of  his  family,  (Mr.  Ewart,  a respectable  brandy-merchant  in  the 
city,)  as  a rich  heiress  who  had  consented  to  elope  with  him  to 
the  Continent ; — in  consequence  of  which  the  old  gentleman, 
with  many  commendations  of  his  wisdom  for  having  given  up 
the  imprudent  pursuit  of  Miss  Linley,  not  only  accommodated 
the  fugitives  with  a passage  on  board  a ship,  which  he  had  ready 
to  sail  from  the  port  of  London  to  Dunkirk,  but  gave  them  let- 
ters of  recommendation  to  his  correspondents  at  that  place, 
who  with  the  same  zeal  and  dispatch  facilitated  their  journey 
to  Lisle. 

On  their  leaving  Dunkirk,  as  was  natural  to  expect,  the  chival- 
rous and  disinterested  protector  degenerated  into  a mere  sel- 
fish lover.  It  was  represented  by  him,  with  arguments  which 
seemed  to  appeal  to  prudence  as  well  as  feeling,  that,  after  the 
step  which  they  had  taken,  she  could  not  possibly  appear  in 
England  again  but  as  his  wife.  He  was  therefore,  he  said,  re- 
solved not  to  deposit  her  in  a convent  till  she  had  consented,  by 
the  ceremony  of  a marriage,  to  confirm  to  him  that  right  of 
protecting  her,  which  he  had  now  but  temporarily  assumed.  It 
did  not,  we  may  suppose,  require  much  eloquence  to  convince 
her  heart  of  the  truth  of  this  reasoning ; and,  accordingly,  at  a 
little  village,  not  far  from  Calais,  they  were  married  about  the 
latter  end  of  March,  1772,  by  a priest  well  known  for  his  ser- 
vices on  such  occasions. 

They  thence  immediately  proceeded  to  Lisle,  where  Miss 
Linley,  as  she  must  still  be  called,  giving  up  her  intention  of 
going  on  to  St.  Quentin,  procured  an  apartment  in  a convent,  with 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  51 


the  determination  of  remaining  there,  till  Sheridan  should  have 
the  means  of  supporting  her  as  his  acknowledged  wife.  A letter 
which  he  wrote  to  his  brother  from  this  place,  dated  April  15, 
though  it  throws  but  little  additional  light  on  the  narrative,  is 
too  interesting  an  illustration  of  it  to  be  omitted  here : 

“ Dear  Brother, 

“ Most  probably  you  will  have  thought  me  very  inexcusable 
for  not  having  writ  to  you.  You  will  be  surprised,  too,  to  be 
told  that,  except  your  letter  just  after  we  arrived,  we  have  never 
received  one  line  from  Bath.  We  suppose  for  certain  that  there 
are  letters  somewhere,  in  which  case  we  shall  have  sent  to  every 
place  almost  but  the  right,  whither,  I hope,  I have  now  sent 
also.  You  will  soon  see  me  in  England.  Everything  on  our 
side’ has  at  last  succeeded.  Miss  L is  now  fixing  in  a con- 

vent, w^here  she  has  been  entered  some  time.  This  has  been  a 
much  more  difficult  point  than  you  could  have  imagined,  and  we 
have,  I find,  been  extremely  fortunate.  She  has  been  ill,  but  is 
now  recovered ; this,  too,  has  delayed  me.  W e would  have 
wrote,  but  have  been  kept  in  the  most  tormenting  expectation, 
*from  day  to  day,  of  receiving  your  letters ; but  as  everything 
is  now  so  happily  settled  here,  I will  delay  no  longer  giving  you 
that  information,  though  probably  I shall  set  out  for  England 
without  knowing  a syllable  of  what  has  happened  with  you.  All 
is  well,  I hope ; and  I hope,  too,  that  though  you  may  have  been 
ignorant,  for  some  time,  of  our  proceedings,  you  never  could 
have  been  uneasy  lest  anything  should  tempt  me  to  depart,  even 
in  a thought,  from  the  honor  and  consistency  which  engaged 

me  at  first.  I wrote  to  M ^ above  a w^eek  ago,  which,  1 

think,  w^as  necessary  and  right.  I hope  he  has  acted  the  one 
proper  part  which  w^as  left  him ; and,  to  speak  from  my  feelings^ 
I cannot  but  say  that  I shall  be  very  happy  to  find  no  further 
disagreeable  consequence  pursuing  him ; for,  as  Brutus  says  of 
Coesar,  &c. — if  I delay  one  moment  longer,  I lose  the  post. 

I have  writ  now,  too,  to  Mr.  Adams,  and  should  apologize 

♦ Malliew^*  UNIVERSITY  OF  lU.ii'.Or. 

LWRARV 


52 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


to  you  for  having  writ  to  him  first,  and  lost  my  time  for  you 
Love  to  my  sisters,  Miss  L to  all. 

‘‘  Ever,  Charles,  your  affect.  Brother, 

“ R.  B.  Sheridan. 

“ 1 need  not  tell  you  that  we  altered  quite  our  route.” 

The  illness  of  Miss  Linley,  to  which  he  alludes,  and  which 
had  been  occasioned  by  fatigue  and  agitation  of  mind,  came  on 
some  days  after  her  retirement  to  the  convent;  but  an  Engl i si i 
physician.  Dr.  Dolman,  of  York,  who  happened  to  be  resident 
at  Lisle  at  the  time,  was  called  in  to  attend  her ; and  in  order 
that  she  might  be  more  directly  under  his  care,  he  and  Mrs. 
Dolman  invited  her  to  their  house,  where  she  was  found  by  Mr. 
Linley,  on  his  arrival  in  pursuit  of  her.  After  a few  words  of 
private  explanation  from  Sheridan,  which  had  the  effect  of  recon- 
ciling him  to  his  truant  daughter,  Mr.  Linley  insisted  upon  her 
returning  with  him  immediately  to  England,  in  order  to  fulfil 
some  engagements  which  he  had  entered  into  on  her  account ; 
and  a promise  being  given  that,  as  soon  as  these  engagements 
were  accomplished,  she  should  be  allowed  to  resume  her  plan 
of  retirement  at  Lisle,  the  whole  party  se-t  off  amicably  together 
for  England. 

On  the  first  discovery  of  the  elopement,  the  landlord  of  the 
house  in  which  the  Sheridans  resided  had,  from  a feeling  of  pity 
for  the  situation  of  the  young  ladies, — now  left  without  the  pro- 
tection of  either  father  or  brother, — gone  off,  at  break  of  day,  to 
the  retreat  of  Charles  Sheridan,  and  informed  him  of  the  event 
which  had  just  occurred.  Poor  Charles,  wholly  ignorant  till 
then  of  his  brother’s  attachment  to  Miss  Linley,  felt  all  that  a 
man  may  be  supposed  to  feel,  who  had  but  too  much  reason  to 
think  himself  betrayed,  as  well  as  disappointed.  He  hastened 
to  Bath,  where  he  found  a still  more  furious  lover,  Mr.  Mathews, 
inquiring  at  the  house  every  particular  of  the  afiair,  and  almost 
avowing,  in  the  impotence  of  his  rage,  the  unprincipled  design 
which  this  summary  step  had  frustrated.  In  the  course  of  their 
conversation,  Charles  Sheridan  let  fall  some  unguarded  expres- 


RIGHT  HOK.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  63 

sions-of  anger  against  his  brother,  which  this  gentleman,  who 
seems  to  have  been  eminently  qualified  for  a certain  line  of  cha- 
racters indispensable  in  all  romances,  treasured  up  in  his  memo- 
ry, and,  as  it  will  appear,  afterwards  availed  himself  of  them.  For 
the  four  or  five  weeks  during  which  the  young  couple  were  ab- 
sent, he  never  ceased  to  haunt  the  Sheridan  family,  with  inquiries, 
rumors,  and  other  disturbing  visitations  ; and,  at  length,  urged  on 
by  the  restlessness  of  revenge,  inserted  the  following  violent  ad- 
vertisement in  the  Bath  Chronicle  : 

“ Wednesday,  April  8^7i,  1772. 

“ Mr.  Richard  having  attempted,  in  a letter  left  be- 

hind him  for  that  purpose,  to  account  for  his  scandalous  method 
of  running  away  from  this  place,  by  insinuations  derogating  from 
WAj  character,  and  that  of  a young  lady,  innocent  as  far  as  relates 
to  me^  or  my  knowledge ; since  which  he  has  neither  taken  any 
notice  of  letters,  or  even  informed  his  own  family  of  the  place 
where  he  has  hid  himself ; I can  no  longer  think  he  deserves  the 
treatment  of  a gentleman,  and  therefore  shall  trouble  myself  no 
further  about  him  than,  in  this  public  method,  to  post  him  as  a 
and  a treacherous 

“ And  as  I am  convinced  there  have  been  many  malevolent  in- 
cendiaries concerned  in  the  propagation  of  this  infamous  lie,  if 
any  of  them,  unprotected  by  age^  infirmities,  or  profession,  will 
dare  to  acknowledge  the  part  they  have  acted,  and  affirm  to  what 
they  have  said  of  me,  they  may  depend  on  receiving  the  proper 
reward  of  their  villany,  in  the  most  public  manner.  The  world 
will  be  candid  enough  to  judge  properly  (I  make  no  doubt)  of 
any  private  abuse  on  this  subject  for  the  future  ; as  nobody  can 
defend  himself  from  an  accusation  he  is  ignorant  of 

‘‘Thomas  Mathews.” 

On  a remonstrance  from  Miss  Sheridan  upon  this  outrageous 
proceeding,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  assert  that  her  brother  Charles 
was  privy  to  it; — a charge  which  the  latter  with  indignation  re- 
pelled, and  was  only  prevented  by  the  sudden  departure  of  Ma^ 


54 


MEMOlES  Ot  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


thews  to  London  from  calling  him  to  a more  serious  account  for 
the  falsehood. 

At  this  period  the  party  from  the  Continent  arrived ; and  as  a 
detail  of  the  circumstances  which  immediately  followed  has  been 
found  in  Mr.  Sheridan’s  own  hand-writing,: — drawn  up  hastily,  it 
appears,  at  the  Parade  Coffee-house,  Bath,  the  evening  before  his 
second  duel  with  Mr.  Mathews, — it  would  be  little  better  than 
profanation  to  communicate  them  in  any  other  words. 

“It  has  ever  been  esteemed  impertinent  to  appeal  to  the  pub- 
lic in  concerns  entirely  private ; but  there  now  and  then  occurs 
a private  incident  which,  by  being  explained,  may  be  productive 
of  public  advantage.  This  consideration,  and  the  precedent  of  a 
public  appeal  in  the  same  affair,  are  my  only  apologies  for  the 
following  lines: — 

“ Mr.  T.  Mathews  thought  himself  essentially  injured  by  Mr. 

R.  Sheridan’s  having  co-operated  in  the  virtuous  efforts  of  a 
young  lady  to  escape  the  snares  of  vice  and  dissimulation.  He 
wrote  several  most  abusive  threats  to  Mr.  S.,  then  in  France. 
He  labored,  with  a cruel  industry,  to  vilify  his  character  in  Eng- 
land. He  publicly  posted  him  as  a scoundrel  and  a liar.  Mr. 

S.  answered  him  from  France  (hurried  and  surprised),  that  he 
would  never  sleep  in  England  till  he  had  thanked  him  as  he  de- 
served. 

“ Mr.  S.  arrived  in  London  at  9 o’clock  at  night.  At  10  he  is 
informed,  by  Mr.  S.  Ewart,  that  Mr.  M.  is  in  town.  Mr.  S.  had 
sat  up  at  Canterbury,  to  keep  his  idle  promise  to  Mr.  M. — He 
resolved  to  call  on  him  that  night,  as,  in  case  he  had  not  found 
him  in  town,  he  had  called  on  Mr.  Ewart  to  accompany  him  to 
Bath,  being  bound  by  Mr.  Linley  not  to  let  anything  pass  be- 
tween him  and  Mr.  M.  till  he  had  arrived  thither.  Mr.  S.  came 
to  Mr.  Cochlin’s,  in  Crutched  Friars,  (where  Mr.  M.  was  lodged,) 
about  half  after  twelve.  The  key  of  Mr.  C.’s  door  was  lost ; Mr. 
S.  was  denied  admittance.  By  two  o’clock  he  got  in.  Mr.  M. 
had  been  previously  down  to  the  door,  and  told  Mr.  S.  he  should 
be  admitted,  and  had  retired  to  bed  again.  He  dressed,  com- 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  65 


plained  of  the  cold,  endeavored  to  get  heat  into  him,  called  Mr. 
S.  his  dear  friend^  and  forced  him  to — sit  down, 

“ Mr.  S.  had  been  informed  that  Mr.  M.  had  sworn  his  death ; 
— that  Mr.  M.  had,  in  numberless  'companies,  produced  bills  on 
France,  whither  he  meant  to  retire  on  the  completion  of  his  re- 
venge. Mr.  M.  had  warned  Mr.  Ewart  to  advise  his  friend  not 
even  to  come  in  his  way  without  a sword,  as  he  could  not  answer 
for  the  consequence. 

“ Mr.  M.  had  left  two  letters  for  Mr.  S.,  in  which  he  declares  he 
is  to  be  met  with  at  any  hour,  and  begs  Mr.  S.  will  not  ‘ de- 
prive  himself  of  so  much  sleep,  or  stand  on  any  ceremony,^  Mr. 
S.  called  on  him  at  the  hour  mentioned.  Mr.  S.  was  admitted 
with  the  difficulty  mentioned.  Mr.  S.  declares  that,  on  Mr.  M.’s 
perceiving  that  he  came  to  answer  then  to  his  challenge,  he  does 
not  remember  ever  to  have  seen  a man  behave  so  perfectly  das- 
tardly. Mr.  M.  detained  Mr.  S.  till  seven  o’clock  the  next  morn- 
ing. He  (Mr.  M.)  said  he  never  meant  to  quarrel  with  Mr.  S. 
He  convinced  Mr.  S.  that  his  enmity  ought  to  be  directed  solely 
against  his  brother  and  another  gentleman  at  Bath.  Mr.  S.  went 
to  Bath.^^^^^^^”t 

On  his  arrival  in  Bath,  (whither  he  travelled  with  Miss  Linley 
and  her  father,)  Sheridan  lost  not  a moment  in  ascertaining  the 
falsehood  of  the  charge  against  his  brother.  While  Charles,  how- 
ever, indignantly  denied  the  flagitious  conduct  imputed  to  him  by 
Mathews,  he  expressed  his  opinion  of  the  step  which  Sheridan 
and  Miss  Linley  had  taken,  in  terms  of  considerable  warmth, 
which  were  overheard  by  some  of  the  family.  As  soon  as  the 
young  ladies  had  retired  to  bed,  the  two  brothers,  without  any 
announcement  of  their  intention,  set  off  post  together  for  London, 
Sheridan  having  previously  written  the  following  letter  to  Mr. 
Wade,  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies. 

“ Sir, 

“ I ought  to  apologize  to  you  for  troubling  you  again  on  a sub- 
ject which  should  concern  so  few. 

t The  remainder  of  this  paper  is  omitled,  as  only  briefly  referring  to  circumstances 
which  wiU  be  found  more  minutely  detailed  in  another  document. 


56 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


“ I find  Mr.  Mathews’s  behavior  to  have  been  such  that  I can 
not  be  satisfied  with  his  concession^  as  a consequence  of  an  expla- 
nation from  me.  I called  on  Mr.  Mathews  last  Wednesday  night 
at  Mr.  Cochlin’s,  without  the  smallest  expectation  of  coming  to 
any  verbal  explanation  with  him.  A proposal  of  a pacific  meet- 
ing the  next  day  was  the  consequence,  which  ended  in  those  ad- 
vertisements and  the  letter  to  you.  As  for  Mr.  Mathews’s  honor 
or  spirit  in  this  whole  affair,  I shall  only  add  that  a few  hours 
may  ppssibly  give  some  proof  of  the  latter ; while,  in  my  own 
justification,  I affirm  that  it  was  far  from  being  my  fault  that  this 
point  now  remains  to  be  determined. 

“ On  discovering  Mr.  Mathews’s  benevolent  interposition  in  my 
own  family,  I have  counter-ordered  the  advertisements  that  were 
agreed  on,  as  T think  even  an  explanation  w'ould  now  misbecome 
me ; an  agreement  to  them  was  the  effect  more  of  mere  charity 
than  judgment.  As  I find  it  necessary  to  make  all  my  senti- 
ments as  public  as  possible,  your  declaring  this  will  greatly  oblige 
“Sat.  12  o’clock,  “ Your  very  humble  Servant, 

May  2d,  1772.  • “ R.  B.  Sheridan.” 

“ To  William  Wade^  Esq^ 

On  the  following  day  (Sunday),  when  the  young  gentlemen  did 
not  appear,  the  alarm  of  their  sisters  was  not  a little  increased, 
by  hearing  that  high  words  had  been  exchanged  the  evening  be- 
fore, and  that  it  was  feared  a duel  between  the  brothers  would  be 
the  consequence.  Though  unable  to  credit  this  dreadful  surmise, 
yet  full  of  the  various  apprehensions  which  such  mystery  was 
calculated  to  inspire,  they  had  instant  recourse  to  Miss  Linley, 
the  fair  Helen  of  all  this  strife,  as  the  person  most  likely  to  be 
acquainted  with  their  brother  Richard’s  designs,  and  to  relieve 
them  from  the  suspense  under  which  they  labored.  She,  how- 
ever, was  as  ignorant  of  the  transaction  as  themselves,  and  their 
mutual  distress  being  heightened  by  sympathy,  a scene  of  tears 
and  fainting-fits  ensued,  of  which  no  less  remarkable  a person 
than  Doctor  Priestley,  who  lodged  in  Mr.  Linley’s  house  at  the 
time,  happened  to  be  a witness. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  57 


On  the  arrival  of  the  brothers  in  town,  Richard  Sheridan  in- 
stantly called  Mathews  out.  His  second  on  the  occasion  was  Mr. 
Ewart,  and  the  particulars  of  the  duel  are  thus  stated  by  himself, 
in  a letter  which  ne  addressed  to  Captain  Knight,  the  second  of 
Mathews,  soon  after  the  subsequent  duel  in  Bath. 

“ Sir, 

On  the  evening  preceding  my  last  meeting  with  Mr.  Mathews, 
Mr.  Barnett"'^  produced  a paper  to  me,  written  by  Mr.  Mathews, 
containing  an  account  of  our  former  meetings  in  London.  As  1 
had  before  frequently  heard  of  Mr.  Mathews’s  relation  of  that 
affair,  without  interesting  myself  much  in  contradicting  it,  I should 
certainly  have  treated  this  in  the  same  manner,  had  it  not  been 
seemingly  authenticated  by  Mr.  Knight’s  name  being  subscribed 
to  it.  My  asserting  that  the  paper  contains  much  misrepresen- 
tation, equivocation,  and  falsity,  might  make  it  appear  strange  that 
I should  apply  to  you  in  this  manner  for  information  on  the 
subject:  but,  as  it  likewise  contradicts  what  I have  been  told 
were  Mr.  Knight’s  sentiments  and  assertions  on  that  affair,  1 think 
I owe  it  to  his  credit,  as  well  as  my  own  justification,  first,  to  be 
satisfied  from  himself  whether  he  really  subscribed  and  will  sup- 
port the  truth  of  the  account  shown  by  Mr.  Mathews.  Give  me 
leave  previously  to  relate  what  I have  affirmed  to  have  been  a 
real  state  of  our  meeting  in  London,  and  which  I am  now  ready 
to  support  on  my  honor,  or  my  oath,  as  the  best  account  I can 
give  of  Mr.  Mathews’s  relation  is,  that  it  is  almost  directly  op- 
posite to  mine. 

“ Mr.  Ewart  accompanied  me  to  Hyde  Park,  about  six  in  the 
evening,  where  we  met  you  and  Mr.  Mathews,  and  we  walked 
together  to  the  ring. — Mr.  Mathews  refusing  to  make  any  other 
acknowledgment  than  he  had  done,  I observed  that  we  were 
come  to  the  ground : Mr.  Mathews  objected  to  the  spot,  and  ap- 
pealed to  you. — We  proceeded  to  the  back  of  a building  on  the 
other  side  of  the  ring,  the  ground  was  there  perfectly  level.  I 
called  on  him  and  drew  my  sword  (he  having  previously  declined 

* The  friend  of  Mathews  in  the  second  duel. 

VOL.  I. 


58 


Memoirs  oe  the  life  of  the 


pistols).  Mr.  Ewart  observed  a sentinel  on  the  other  side  of  the 
building ; we  advanced  to  another  part  of  the  park.  I stopped 
again  at  a seemingly  convenient  place ; Mr.  Mathews  objected  to 
the  observation  of  some  people  at  a great  distance,  and  proposed 
to  retire  to  the  Hercules’  Pillars  till  the  park  should  be  clear : 
we  did  so.  In  a little  time  w^e  returned. — I again  drew  my  sword  ; 
Mr.  Mathews  again  objected  to  the  observation  of  a person  who 
seemed  to  watch  us.  Mr.  Ewart  observed  that  the  chance  was 
equal,  and  engaged  that  no  one  should  stop  him,  should  it  be  ne- 
cessary for  him  to  retire  to  the  gate,  where  we  had  a chaise  and 
four,  which  was  equally  at  his  service.  Mr.  Mathews  declared 
that  he  would  not  engage  while  any  one  was  within  sight,  and 
proposed  to  defer  it  till  next  morning.  I turned  to  you  and 
said  that  ‘this  was'  trifling  work,’  that  I could  not  admit  of  any 
delay,  and  engaged  to  remove  the  gentleman  (who  proved  to  be 
an  officer,  and  who,  on  my  going  up  to  him,  and  assuring  him  that 
any  interposition  would  be  ill-timed,  politely  retired).  Mr. 
Mathews,  in  the  mean  time,  had  returned  towards  the  gate : Mr. 
Ewart  and  I called  to  you,  and  followed.  W e returned  to  the  Her- 
cules’ Pillars,  and  went  from  thence,  by  agreement,  to  the  Bedford 
Coffee  House,  where,  the  master  being  alarmed,  you  came  and  con- 
ducted us  to  Mr.  Mathews  at  the  Castle  Tavern,  Henrietta  Street. 
Mr.  Ewart  took  lights  up  in  his  hand,  and  almost  immediately 
on  our  entering  the  room  we  engaged.  I struck  Mr.  Mathews’s 
point  so  much  out  of  the  line,  that  I stepped  up  and  caught  hold 
of  his  wrist,  or  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  while  the  point  of  mine  was 
at  his  breast.  You  ran  in  and  caught  hold  of  my  arm,  exclaim- 
ing, Uiont  kill  I struggled  to  disengage  my  arm,  and  said 

his  sword  was  in  my  power.  Mr.  Mathews  called  out  twice  or 
thrice,  ‘ / heg  my  life.’’ — We  were  parted.  You  immediately 
said,  ‘ there^  he  has  begged  his  life,  and  now  there  is  an  end  of  it  f 
and,  on  Mr.  Ewart  saying  that,  when  his  sword  was  in  my  power, 
as  I attempted  no  more  you  should  not  have  interfered,  you  re- 
plied that  you  were  wrong ^ but  that  you  had  done  it  hastily,  and 
to  prevent  mischief — or  words  to  that  effect.  Mr.  Mathews  then 
hinted  that  I was  rather  obliged  to  your  interposition  for  the  ad- 


HlGHl?  HON.  KiCHAHD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  59 


vantage ; you  declared  that  ‘ before  you  did  so,  both  the  swords 
were  in  Mr.  Sheridan’s  power.’  Mr.  Mathews  still  seemed  re- 
solved to  give  it  another  turn,  and  observed  that  he  had  nevei 
quitted  his  sword. — Provoked  at  this,  I then  swore  (with  too  much 
heat,  perhaps)  that  he  should  either  give  up  his  sword  and  1 would 
break  it,  or  go  to  his  guard  again.  He  refused — but,  on  my  per- 
sisting, either  gave  it  into  my  hand,  or  flung  it  on  the  table,  or  the 
ground  {which  I will  not  absolutely  affirm).  I broke  it,  and  flung 
the  hilt  to  the  other  end  of  the  room.  He  exclaimed  at  this.  I 
took  a mourning  sword  from  Mr.  Ewart,  and  presenting  him  with 
mine,  gave  my  honor  that  what  had  passed  should  never  be  men- 
tioned by  me,  and  he  might  now  right  himself  again.  He  re- 
plied that  he  ^ would  never  draw  a sword  against  the  man  who  had 
given  him  his  life ;’ — but,  on  his  still  exclaiming  against  the  in- 
dignity of  breaking  his  sword  (which  he  had  brought  upon  him- 
self), Mr.  Ewart  offered  him  the  pistols,  and  some  altercation  pass- 
ed between  them.  Mr.  Mathews  said,  that  he  could  never  show 
his  face  if  it  were  known  how  his  sword  was  broke — that  such  a 
thing  had  never  been  done — that  it  cancelled  all  obligations,  dec.  dec. 
You  seemed  to  think  it  was  wrong,  and  we  both  proposed,  that 
if  he  never  misrepresented  the  affair,  it  should  not  be  mentioned 
by  us.  This  was  settled.  I then  asked  Mr.  Mathews,  whether 
(as  he  had  expressed  himself  sensible  of,  and  shocked  at  the  in- 
justice and  indignity  he  had  done  me  in  his  advertisement)  it  did 
not  occur  to  him  that  he  owed  me  another  satisfaction ; and  that, 
as  it  was  now  in  his  power  to  do  it  without  discredit,  I sup- 
posed he  would  not  hesitate.  This  he  absolutely  refused,  unless 
conditionally  ; I insisted  on  it,  and  said  I would  not  leave  the 
room  till  it  was  settled.  After  much  altercation,  and  with  much 
ill-grace,  he  gave  the  apology,  which  afterwards  appeared.  We 
parted,  and  I returned  immediately  to  Bath.  I,  there,  to  Colonel 
Gould,  Captain  Wade,  Mr.  Creaser,  and  others,  mentioned  the  af- 
fair to  Mr.  Mathews’s  credit — said  that  chance  having  given  me 
the  advantage,  Mr.  Mathews  had  consented  to  that  apology,  and 
mentioned  nothing  of  the  sword.  Mr.  Mathews  came  down,  and 
in  two  days  1 found  the  whole  aflair  had  been  stated  in  a different 


60 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


light,  and  insinuations  given  out  to  the  same  purpose  as  in  the  par 
per,  which  has  occasioned  this  trouble.  I had  undoubted  author- 
ity that  these  accounts  proceeded  from  Mr.  Mathews,  and  like- 
wise that  Mr.  Knight  had  never  had  any  share  in  them.  I then 
thought  I no  longer  owed  Mr.  Mathews  the  compliment  to  con- 
ceal any  circumstance,  and  I related  the  affair  to  several  gentle- 
men exactly  as  above. 

‘‘  Now,  sir,  as  I have  put  down  nothing  in  this  account  but  upon 
the  most  assured  recollection,  and  as  Mr.  Mathews’s  paper  either 
directly  or  equivocally  contradicts  almost  every  article  of  it,  and 
as  your  name  is  subscribed  to  that  paper,  I flatter  myself  that  I 
have  a right  to  expect  your  answer  to  the  following  questions  : — 
First, 

“ Is  there  any  falsity  or  misrepresentation  in  what  I have  ad^ 
vanced  above  ? 

“ With  regard  to  Mr.  Mathews’s  paper — did  I,  in  the  Park, 
seem  in  the  smallest  article  inclined  to  enter  into  conversation 
with  Mr.  Mathews  ? — He  insinuates  that  I did. 

“ Did  Mr.  Mathews  not  beg  his  life  ? — He  afflrms  he  did  not. 

“ Did  I break  his  sword  without  warning  ? — He  afflrms  I did  it 
without  warning,  on  his  laying  it  on  the  table. 

“ Did  I not  offer  him  mine  ? — He  omits  it. 

“ Did  Mr.  Mathews  give  me  the  apology,  as  a point  of  gene- 
rosity, on  my  desisting  to  demand  it  ? — He  afflrms  he  did. 

“ I shall  now  give  my  reasons  for  doubting  your  having  au- 
thenticated this  paper. 

“ 1.  Because  I think  it  full  of  falsehood  and  misrepresentation, 
and  Mr.  Knight  has  the  character  of  a man  of  truth  and  honor. 

“ 2.  When  you  were  at  Bath,  I was  informed  that  you  had 
never  expressed  any  such  sentiments. 

“3.  I have  been  told  that,  in  Wales,  Mr.  Mathews  never  told 
his  story  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Knight,  who  had  never  there  in- 
sinuated any  thing  to  my  disadvantage. 

“ 4.  The  paper  shown  me  by  Mr.  Barnett  contains  (if  my 
memory  does  not  deceive  me)  three  separate  sheets  of  writing 
paper.  Mr.  Knight’s  evidence  is  annexed  to  the  last,  which  con. 


EIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  61 

tains  chiefly  a copy  of  our  first  proposed  advertisements,  which 
Mr.  Mathews  had,  in  Mr.  Knight’s  presence,  agreed  should  be 
destroyed  as  totally  void ; and  which  (in  a letter  to  Colonel 
Gould,  by  whom  I had  insisted  on  it)  he  declared  upon  his  honor 
he  knew  nothing  about,  nor  should  ever  make  the  least  use  of. 

“ These,  sir,  are  my  reasons  for  applying  to  yourself,  in  prefe- 
rence to  any  appeal  to  Mr.  Ewart,  my  second  on  that  occasion, 
which  is  what  I would  wish  to  avoid.  As  for  Mr.  Mathews’s  as- 
sertions, I shall  never  be  concerned  at  them.  I have  ever  avoided 
any  verbal  altercation  with  that  gentleman,  and  he  has  now  se- 
cured himself  from  any  other. 

“ I am  your  very  humble  servant, 

“ R.  B.  Sheridan.” 

It  was  not  till  Tuesday  morning  that  the  young  ladies  at  Bath 
were  relieved  from  their  suspense  by  the  return  of  the  two  bro- 
thers, who  entered  evidently  much  fatigued,  not  having  been  in 
bed  since  they  left  home,  and  produced  the  apology  of  Mr.  Ma- 
thews, which  was  instantly  sent  to  Crutwell  for  insertion.  It  was 
in  the  following  terms: — 

“ Being  convinced  that  the  expressions  I made  use  of  to  Mr. 
Sheridan’s  disadvantage  were  the  effects  of  passion  and  misrepre- 
sentation, I retract  what  I have  said  to  that  gentleman’s  disad- 
vantage, and  particularly  beg  his  pardon  for  my  advertisement  in 
the  Bath  Chronicle. 

‘^Thomas  Mathews.”* 

With  the  odor  of  this  transaction  fresh  about  him,  Mr.  Mathews 
retired  to  his  estate  in  Wales,  and,  as  he  might  have  expected, 
found  himself  universally  shunned.  An  apology  may  be,  accord- 
ing to  circumstances,  either  the  noblest  effort  of  manliness  or  the 
last  resource  of  fear,  and  it  was  evident,  from  the  reception  which 

* This  appeared  in  the  Bath  Chronicle  of  May  7th.  In  another  part  of  tlie  same  paper 
there  is  the  following  paragraph  : “ We  can  with  authority  contradict  the  account  in  the 
London  Evening  Post  of  last  night,  of  a duel  between  Mr.  M-t-ws  and  Mr.  S— r— n,  as 
to  the  time  and  event  of  their  meeting,  Mr.  S.  having  been  at  his  place  on  Saturday,  and 
both  these  gentlemen  being  here  at  present.” 


62 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


this  gentlemau  experienced  every  where,  that  the  former,  at  least 
was  not  the  class  to  which  his  late  retraction  had  been  referred. 
In  this  crisis  of  his  character,  a Mr.  Barnett,  who  had  but  lately 
come  to  reside  in  his  neighborhood,  observing  with  pain  the  mor- 
tifications to  which  he  was  exposed,  and  perhaps  thinking  them,  in 
some  degree,  unmerited,  took  upon  him  to  urge  earnestly  the  ne- 
cessity of  a second  meeting  with  Sheridan,  as  the  only  means  of 
removing  the  stigma  left  by  the  first ; and,  with  a degree  of  Irish 
friendliness,  not  forgotten  in  the  portrait  of  Sir  Lucius  O’Trigger, 
offered  himself  to  be  the  bearer  of  the  challenge.  The  despera- 
tion of  persons,  in  Mr.  Mathews’s  circumstances,  is  in  general 
much  more  formidable  than  the  most  acknowledged  valor  ; and 
we  may  easily  believe  that  it  was  with  no  ordinary  eagerness  he 
accepted  the  proposal  of  his  new  ally,  and  proceeded  with  him, 
full  of  vengeance,  to  Bath. 

The  elder  Mr.  Sheridan,  who  had  but  just  returned  from  Ire- 
land, and  had  been  with  some  little  difficulty  induced  to  forgive 
his  son  for  the  wild  achievements  he  had  been  engaged  in  during 
his  absence,  was  at  this  time  in  London,  making  arrangements 
for  the  departure  of  his  favorite,  Charles,  who,  through  the  inter- 
est of  Mr.  Wheatley,  an  old  friend  of  the  family,  had  been  ap- 
pointed Secretary  to  the  E nbassy  in  Sweden.  Miss  Linley — 
wife  and  no  wife, — obliged  to  conceal  from  the  world  what  her 
heart  would  have  been  most  proud  to  avow,  was  also  absent  from 
Bath,  being  engaged  at  the  Oxford  music-meeting.  The  letter 
containing  the  preliminaries  of  the  challenge  was  delivered  by 
Mr.  Barnett,  with  rather  unnecessary  cruelty,  into  the  hands  of 
Miss  Sheridan,  under  the  pretext,  however,  that  it  was  a note  of 
invitation  for  her  brother,  and  on  the  following  morning,  before  it 
was  quite  daylight,  the  parties  met  at  Kingsdown — Mr.  Mathews, 
attended  by  his  neighbor  Mr.  Barnett,  and  Sheridan  by  a gentle- 
man of  the  name  of  Paumier,  nearly  as  young  as  himself,  and 
but  little  qualified  for  a trust  of  such  importance  and  delicacy. 

The  account  of  the  duel,  which  1 shall  here  subjoin,  was  drawn 
up  some  months  after,  by  the  second  of  Mr.  Mathews,  and  de- 
posited in  the  hands  of  Captain  Wade,  the  master  of  thecer^ 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  63 


monies.  Though  somewhat  partially  colored,  and  (according  to 
Mr.  Sheridan’s  remarks  upon  it,  which  shall  be  noticed  presently) 
incorrect  in  some  particulars,  it  is,  upon  the  whole,  perhaps  as 
accurate  a statement  as  could  be  expected,  and  received,  as  ap- 
pears by  the  following  letter  from  Mr.  Brereton,  (another  of 
Mr.  Sheridan’s  intimate  friends,)  all  the  sanction  that  Captain 
Paumier’s  concurrence  in  the  truth  of  its  most  material  facts 
could  furnish. 

“ Dear  Sir, 

“ In  consequence  of  some  reports  spread  to  the  disadvantage 
of  Mr.  Mathews,  it  seems  he  obtained  from  Mr.  Barnett  an  im- 
partial relation  of  the  last  affair  with  Mr.  Sheridan,  directed  to 
you.  This  account  Mr.  Paumier  has  seen,  and  I,  at  Mr.  Ma- 
thews’s desire,  inquired  from  him  if  he  thought  it  true  and  im- 
partial : he  says  it  differs,  in  a few  immaterial  circumstances  only, 
from  his  opinion,  and  has  given  me  authority  to  declare  this  to 
you. 

“ I am,  dear  Sir, 

“ Your  most  humble  and  obedient  servant, 

(Signed)  “ William  Brereton. 

“ Bath,  Oct.  24,  1772.” 

Copy  of  a Paper  left  hy  Mr.  Barnett  in  the  hands  of  Captain 
William  Wade,  Master  of  the  Ceremonies  at  Bath. 

“ On  quitting  our  chaises  at  the  top  of  Kingsdown,  I entered 
into  a conversation  with  Captain  Paumier,  relative  to  some  pre- 
liminaries I thought  ought  to  be  settled  in  an  affair  which  was 
likely  to  end  very  seriously  ; — particularly  the  method  of  using 
their  pistols,  which  Mr.  Mathews  had  repeatedly  signified  his  de- 
sire to  use  prior  to  swords,  from  a conviction  that  Mr.  Sheridan 
would  run  in  on  him,  and  an  ungentlemanlike  scuffle  probably  be 
the  consequence.  This,  however,  was  refused  by  Mr.  Sheridan, 
declaring  he  had  no  pistols : Captain  Paumier  replied  he  had  a 
brace  (which  I know  were  loaded). — By  my  advice,  Mr.  Ma- 
thews’s were -not  loaded^  as  I imagined  it  was  always  customary 


64 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


fco  load  on  the  field,  which  I mentioned  to  Captain  Paumier  at  the 
White-IIart,  before  we  went  out,  and  desired  he  would  draw  his 
pistols.  He  replied,  as  they  were  already  loaded,  and  they  go- 
ing on  a public  road  at  that  time  of  the  morning,  he  might  as 
well  let  them  remain  so,  till  we  got  to  the  place  appointed,  when 
he  would  on  his  honor  draw  them,  which  I am  convinced  he  would 
have  done  had  there  been  time ; but  Mr.  Sheridan  immediately 
drev,^  his  sword,  and,  in  a vaunting  manner,  desired  Mr. . Mathews 
to  draw  (their  ground  was  very  uneven,  and  near  the  post-chaises). 
— Mr.  Mathews  drew  ; Mr.  Sheridan  advanced  on  him  at  first ; 
Mr.  Mathews  in  turn  advanced  fast  on  Mr.  Sheridan ; upon 
which  he  retreated,  till  he  very  suddenly  ran  in  upon  Mr.  Ma- 
thews, laying  himself  exceedingly  open,  and  endeavoring  to  get 
hold  of  Mr.  Mathews’s  sword ; Mr.  Mathews  received  him  on 
his  point,  and,  I believe,  disengaged  his  sword  from  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan’s body,  and  gave  him  another  wound ; which,  I suppose,  must 
have  been  either  against  one  of  his  ribs,  or  his  breast-bone,  as  his 
sword  broke,  which  I imagine  happened  from  the  resistance  it 
met  with  from  one  of  those  parts  ; but  whether  it  was  broke  by 
that,  or  on  the  closing,  I cannot  aver. 

“ Mr.  Mathews,  I think,  on  finding  his  sword  broke,  laid  hold 
of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  sword-arm,  and  tripped  up  his  heels : they 
both  fell ; Mr.  Mathews  was  uppermost,  with  the  hilt  of  his 
sword  in  his  hand,  having  about  six  or  seven  inches  of  the  blade 
to  it,  with  which  I saw  him  give  Mr.  Sheridan,  as  I imagined,  a 
skin-wound  or  two  in  the  neck ; for  it  could  be  no  more, — the  re- 
maining part  of  the  sword  being  broad  and  blunt;  he  also  beat 
him  in  the  face  either  with  his  fist  or  the  hilt  of  his  sword.  Upon 
this  I turned  from  them,  and  asked  Captain  Paumier  if  we  should 
not  take  them  up  ; but  I cannot  say  whether  he  heard  me  or  not, 
as  there  was  a good  deal  of  noise ; however,  he  made  no  reply. 
I again  turned  to  the  combatants,  who  were  much  in  the  same 
situation : I found  Mr.  Sheridan’s  sword  was  bent,  and  he  slip 
ped  his  hand  up  the  small  part  of  it,  and  gave  Mr.  Mathews  a 
slight  wound  in  the  left  part  of  his  belly:  I that  instant  turned 
again  to  Captain  Paumier,  and  proposed  again  our  taking  them 


Hmm  HON.  RICHARD  BRIKSLEY  SHERIDAN.  65 


up.  rie  in  the  same  moment  called  out,  * Oh ! he  is  killed,  he  is 
killed !’ — I as  quick  as  possible  turned  again,  and  found  Mr.  Ma- 
thews had  recovered  the  point  of  his  sword,  that  was  before  on 
the  ground,  with  which  he  had  wounded  Mr.  Sheridan  in  the 
belly  : I saw  him  drawing  the  p^)int  out  of  the  wound.  By  this 
time  Mr.  Sheridan’s  sword  was  broke,  which  he  told  us. — Captain 
Paumier  called  out  to  him,  ‘ My  dear  Sheridan,  beg  your  life, 
and  I will  be  yours  for  ever.’  I also  desired  him  to  ask  his  life : 
he  replied,  ‘ No,  by  God,  I won’t.’  I then  told  Captain  Paumier 
it  would  not  do  to  wait  for  those  punctilios  (or  words  to  that  ef- 
fect), and  desired  he  would  assist  me  in  taking  them  up.  Mr. 
Mathews  most  readily  acquiesced  first,  desiring  me  to  see  Mr. 
Sheridan  was  disarmed.  I desired  him  to  give  me  the  tuck, 
which  he  readily  did,  as  did  Mr.  Sheridan  the  broken  part  of 
his  sword  to  Captain  Paumier.  Mr.  Sheridan  and  Mr.  Mathews 
both  got  up ; the  former  was  helped  into  one  of  the  chaises,  and 
drove  off  for  Bath,  and  Mr.  Mathews  made  the  best  of  his  way 
for  London. 

“ The  whole  of  this  narrative  I declare,  on  the  word  and  honor 
of  a gentleman,  to  be  exactly  true;  and  that  Mr.  Mathews  discover- 
ed as  much  genuine,  cool,  and  intrepid  resolution  as  man  could  do. 

“ I think  I may  be  allowed  to  be  an  impartial  relater  of  facts, 
as  my  motive  for  accompanying  Mr.  Mathews  was  no  personal 
friendship,  (not  having  any  previous  intimacy,  or  being  barely 
acquainted  with  him,)  but  from  a great  desire  of  clearing  up  so 
ambiguous  an  affair,  without  prejudice  to  either  party, — which  a 
stranger  was  judged  the  most  proper  to  do, — particularly  as  Mr. 
Mathews  had  been  blamed  before  for  takmg  a relation  with  him 
on  a similar  occasion. 

(Signed)  “William  Barnett.'* 

“ October,  1772.” 

The  following  account  is  given  as  an  “ Extract  of  a Letter  from  Bath,”  in  the  St.  James’s 
Chronicle,  July  4 : “Young  Sheridan  and  Captain  Mathews  of  this  town,  who  lately  had 
a rencontre  in  a tavern  in  London,  upon  account  of  the  maid  of  Bath,  Miss  Linley,  have 
had  another  this  morning  upon  Kingsdown,  about  four  miles  hence  Sheridan  is  much 
wounded,  but  whether  mortally  or  not  is  yet  uncertain.  Both  their  swords  breaking  upon 
the  first  lunge,  they  threw  each  other  dovsm,  and  with  the  broken  pieces  hacked  at  each 
Mher,  rolling  upon  the  ground,  the  seconds  standing  by,  quiet  spectators.  Mathews  is 


66 


MEMOIRS  OE  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


The  comments  whi;h  Mr.  Sheridan  thought  it  necessary  to 
make  upon  this  narrative  have  been  found  in  an  unfinished  state 
among  his  papers ; and  though  they  do  not,  as  far  as  they  go,  dis- 
prove anything  material  in  its  statements,  (except,  perhaps, 
with  respect  to  the  nature  of  the  wounds  which  he  received,)  yet, 
as  containing  some  curious  touches  of  character,  and  as  a docu- 
ment which  he  himself  thought  worth  preserving,  it  is  here  in- 
serted. 

“ To  William  Barnett,  Esq. 

“ Sir, 

“ It  has  always  appeared  to  me  so  impertinent  for  individuals 
to  appeal  to  the  public  on  transactions  merely  private,  that  I own 
the  most  apparent  necessity  does  not  prevent  my  entering  into 
such  a dispute  without  an  awkward  consciousness  of  its  impro- 
priety. Indeed,  I am  not  without  some  apprehension,  that  I may 
have  no  right  to  plead  your  having  led  the  way  in  my  excuse ; 
as  it  appears  not  improbable  that  some  ill-wisher  to  you.  Sir,  and 
the  cause  you  have  been  engaged  in,  betrayed  you  first  into  this 
exact  narrative^  and  then  exposed  it  to  the  public  eye,  under  pre- 
tence of  vindicating  your  friend.  However,  as  it  is  the  opinion 
of  some  of  my  friends,  that  I ought  not  to  suffer  these  papers  to 
pass  wholly  unnoticed,  I shall  make  a few  observations  on  them 
with  that  moderation  which  becomes  one  who  is  highly  conscious 
of  the  impropriety  of  staking  his  single  assertion  against  the  ap- 
parent testimony  of  three.  This,  I say,  would  be  an  impropriety, 
as  I am  supposed  to  write  to  those  who  are  not  acquainted  with 
the  parties.  I had  some  time  ago  a copy  of  these  papers  from 
Captain  Wade,  who  informed  me  that  they  were  lodged  in  his 
hands,  to  be  made  public  only  by  judicial  authority.  I wrote  to 

but  slightly  wounded,  and  is  since  gone  off.”  The  Bath  Chronicle,  on  the  day  after  the 
duel,  (July  2d,)  gives  the  particulars  thus  : “ This  morning,  about  three  o’clock,  a second 
duel  was  fought  with  swords,  between  Captain  Mathews  and  Mr.  R.  Sheridan,  on  Kings- 
lown,  near  this  city,  in  consequence  of  their  former  dispute  respecting  an  amiable  young 
lady,  which  Mr.  M.  considered  as  improperly  adjusted  ; Mr.  S.  having,  since  their  first 
rencontre,  declared  his  sentiments  respecting  Mr.  M.  in  a manner  that  the  former  thought 
required  satisfaction.  Mr.  Sheridan  received  three  or  four  wounds  in  his  breast  and  sides, 
and  now  lies  very  ill.  Mr.  M.  was  only  slightly  wounded,  and  left  this  city  soon  after 
the  affair  was  over.” 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  67 

you,  Sir,  on  the  subject,  to  have  from  yourself  an  avowal  that 
the  account  was  yours ; but  as  I received  no  answer,  I have  rea- 
son to  compliment  you  with  the  supposition  that  you  are  not  the 
author  of  it.  However,  as  the  name  William  Barnett  is  sub- 
scribed to  it,  you  must  accept  my  apologies  for  making  use  of 
that  as  the  ostensible  signature  cf  the  writer — Mr.  Paumier  like- 
wise (the  gentleman  who  went  out  with  me  on  that  occasion  in 
the  character  of  a second)  having  assented  to  everything  material 
in  it,  I shall  suppose  the  whole  account  likewise  to  be  his ; and  as 
there  are  some  circumstances  which  could  come  from  no  one  but 
Mr.  Mathews,  I shall  (without  meaning  to  take  from  its  au- 
thority) suppose  it  to  be  Mr.  Mathews’s  also. 

“ As  it  is  highly  indilferent  to  me  whether  the  account  I am  to 
observe  on  be  considered  as  accurately  true  or  not,  and  I believe 
it  is  of  very  little  consequence  to  any  one  else,  I shall  make  those 
observations  just  in  the  same  manner  as  I conceive  any  indiffer- 
ent person  of  common  sense,  who  should  think  it  worth  his  while 
to  peruse  the  matter  with  any  degree  of  attention.  In  this  light, 
the  truth  of  the  articles  which  are  asserted  under  Mr.  Barnett’s 
name  is  what  I have  no  business  to  meddle  with ; but  if  it  should 
appear  that  this  accurate  narrative  frequently  contradicts  itself  as 
well  as  all  probability,  and  that  there  are  some  positive  facts 
against  it,  wb’ch  do  not  depend  upon  any  one’s  assertion,  I must 
repeat  that  I shall  either  compliment  Mr.  Barnett’s  judgment,  in 
supposing  it  not  his,  or  his  humanity  in  proving  the  narrative  to 
partake  of  that  confusion  and  uncertainty,  which  his  well-wishers 
will  plead  to  have  possessed  him  in  the  transaction.  On  this  ac- 
count, what  I shall  say  on  the  subject  need  be  no  further  address- 
ed to  you ; and,  indeed,  it  is  idle,  in  my  opinion,  to  address  even 
the  publisher  of  a newspaper  on  a point  that  can  concern  so 
few',  and  ought  to  have  been  forgotten  by  them.  This  you  must 
take  as  my  excuse  for  having  neglected  the  matter  so  long. 

“ The  first  point  in  Mr.  Barnett’s  narrative  that  is  of  the  least 
consequence  to  take  notice  of,  is,  w'here  Mr.  M.  is  represented  as 
having  repeatedly  signified  his  desire  to  use  pistols  prior  to  swords, 


68 


MEMOIRS  OF  O^HE  LIFE  OF  THE 


from  a conviction  that  Mr.  Sheridan  would  run  in  upon  him,  and 
an  ungentlemanlike  scuffle  probably  be  the  consequence.  This  is 
one  of  those  articles  which  evidently  must  be  given  to  Mr.  Ma- 
thews : for,  as  Mr.  B.’s  part  is  simply  to  relate  a matter  of  fact, 
of  which  he  was  an  eye-witness,  he  is  by  no  means  to  answer  for 
Mr.  Mathews’s  private  convictions.  As  this  insinuation  bears  an 
obscure  allusion  to  a past  transaction  of  Mr.  M.’s,  I doubt  not 
but  he  will  be  surprised  at  my  indifference  in  not  taking  the  trou- 
ble even  to  explain  it.  However,  I cannot  forbear  to  observe 
here,  that  had  I,  at  the  period  which  this  passage  alludes  to,  known 
what  was  the  theory  which  Mr.  M.  held  of  gentlemanly  scuffle^  I 
might,  possibly,  have  been  so  unhappy  as  to  put  it  out  of  his 
power  ever  to  have  brought  it  into  practice. 

“ Mr.  B.  now  charges  me  with  having  cut  short  a number  of 
pretty  preliminaries,  concerning  which  he  was  treating  with  Cap- 
tain Paumier,»by  drawing  my  sword,  and,  in  a vaunting  manner, 
desiring  Mr.  M.  to  draw.  Though  I acknowledge  (with  deference 
to  these  gentlemen)  the  full  right  of  interference  which  seconds 
have  on  such  occasions,  yet  I may  remind  Mr.  B.  that  he  was  ac- 
quainted with  my  determination  with  regard  to  pistols  before  we 
went  on  the  Down,  nor  could  I have  expected  it  to  have  been  pro- 
posed. ‘ Mr.  M.  drew ; Mr.  S.  advanced,  &c.  — here  let  me  re- 
mind Mr.  B.  of  a circumstance,  which  I am  convinced  his  memory 
will  at  once  acknowledge.” 

This  paper  ends  here : but  in  a rougher  draught  of  the  same 
letter  (for  he  appears  to  have  studied  and  corrected  it  with  no 
common  care)  the  remarks  are  continued,  in  a hand  not  very 
legible,  thus : 

“ But  Mr.  B.  here  represents  me  as  drawing  my  sword  in  a 
vaunting  manner.  This  I take  to  be  a reflection ; and  can  only 
say,  that  a person’s  demeanor  is  generally  regulated  by  their  idea 
of  their  antagonist,  and,  for  what  I know,  I may  now  be  writing 
in  a vaunting  style.  Here  let  me  remind  Mr.  B.  of  an  omission, 
which,  I am  convinced,  nothing  but  want  of  recollection  could  oc- 
casion, yet  which  is  a material  point  in  an  exact  account  of  such 


EIGHT  HOH.  EICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  69 


an  affair,  nor  does  it  reflect  in  the  least  on  Mr.  M.  Mr.  M.  could 
not  possibly  have  drawn  his  sword  on  my  calling  to  him,  as  * 

**  ****  * ***  * ^ 

“ M.  B.’s  account  proceeds,  that  I ‘ advanced  first  on  Mr.  M.,’ 
&c.  &c. ; ‘which,  (says  Mr.  B.)  I imagine,  happened  from  the 
resistance  it  met  with  from  one  of  those  parts ; but  whether  it 
was  broke  by  that,  or  on  the  closing,  I cannot  aver.’  How  strange 
is  the  confusion  here ! — First,  it  certainly  broke  ; — whether  it 
broke  against  rib  or  no,  doubtful ; — then,  indeed,  whether  it  broke 
at  ail,  uncertain.  ^ ^ ^ ^ But  of  all  times  Mr.  B.  could  not 
have  chosen  a worse  than  this  for  Mr.  M.’s  sword  to  break  ; 
for  the  relating  of  the  action  unfortunately  carries  a contradiction 
with  it ; — since  if,  on  closing,  Mr.  M.  received  me  on  his  point,  it 
is  not  possible  for  him  to  have  made  a lunge  of  such  a nature  as 
to  break  his  sword  against  a rib-bone.  But  as  the  time  chosen  is 
unfortunate,  so  is  the  place  on  which  it  is  said  to  have  broke, — as 
Mr.  B.  might  have  been  informed,  by  inquiring  of  the  surgeons, 
that  I had  no  wounds  on  my  breast  or  rib  with  the  point  of  a 
sword,  they  being  the  marks  of  the  jagged  and  blunted  part.” 

He  was  driven  from  the  ground  to  the  White-Hart ; where 
Ditcher  and  Sharpe,  the  most  eminent  surgeons  of  Bath,  attended 
and  dressed  his  wounds, — and,  on  the  follomng  day,  at  the  re- 
quest of  his  sisters,  he  was  carefully  removed  to  his  own  home. 
The  newspapers  which  contained  the  account  of  the  affair,  and 
even  stated  that  Sheridan’s  life  was  in  danger,  reached  the  Lin- 
leys  at  Oxford,  during  the  performance,  but  were  anxiously  con 
cealed  from  Miss  Linley  by  her  father,  who  knew  that  the  intel- 
ligence would  totally  disable  her  from  appearing.  Some  persons 
who  were  witnesses  of  the  performance  that  day,  still  talk  of 
the  touching  effect  which  her  beauty  and  singing  produced  upon 
all  present — aware,  as  they  were,  that  a heavy  calamity  had  be- 
fallen her,  of  which  she  herself  was  perhaps  the  only  one  in  the 
assembly  ignorant. 

In  her  way  back  to  Bath,  she  was  met  at  some  miles  from  the 
town  by  a Mr.  Panton,  a clergyman,  long  intimate  with  the 


f It  IS  impossible  to  make  any  connected  sense  of  the  passage  that  follo\y^. 


70 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


family,  who,  taking  her  from  her  father’s  chaise  into  his  own,  em- 
ployed the  rest  of  the  journey  in  cautiously  breaking  to  her  the 
particulars  of  the  alarming  event  that  had  occurred.  Notwith- 
standing this  precaution,  her  feelings  were  so  taken  by  surprise, 
that  in  the  distress  of  the  moment,  she  let  the  secret  of  her  heart 
escape,  and  passionately  exclaimed,  “ My  husband ! my  hus- 
band !” — demanding  to  see  him,  and  insisting  upon  her  right  as 
his  wife  to  be  near  him,  and  watch  over  him  day  and  night.  Her 
entreaties,  however,  could  not  be  complied  with ; for  the  elder 
Mr.  Sheridan,  on  his  return  from  town,  incensed  and  grieved  at 
the  catastrophe  to  which  his  son’s  imprudent  passion  had  led,  re- 
fused for  some  time  even  to  see  him,  and  strictly  forbade  all  in- 
tercourse between  his  daughters  and  the  Linley  family.  But  the 
appealing  looks  of  a brother  lying  wounded  and  unhappy,  had 
more  power  over  their  hearts  than  the  commands  of  a father,  and 
they,  accordingly,  contrived  to  communicate  intelligence  of  the 
lovers  to  each  other. 

In  the  following  letter,  addressed  to  him  by  Charles  at  this  time, 
we  can  trace  that  difference  between  the  dispositions  of  the  bro- 
thers, which,  with  every  one  except  their  father,  rendered  Eichard, 
in  spite  of  all  his  faults,  by  far  the  most  popular  and  beloved  of 
the  two. 

“Dear  Dick,  London^  July  3c?,  1772. 

“It  was  with  the  deepest  concern  I received  the  late  ac- 
counts of  you,  though  it  was  somewhat  softened  by  the  assurance 
of  your  not  being  in  the  least  danger.  You  cannot  conceive  the 
uneasiness  it  occasioned  to  my  father.  Both  he  and  I were  re- 
solved to  believe  the  best,  and  to  suppose  you  safe,  but  then  we 
neither  of  us  could  approve  of  the  cause  in  w^hich  you  suffer.  All 
your  friends  here  condemned  you.  You  risked  every  thing,  where 
you  had  nothing  to  gain,  to  give  your  antagonist  the  thing  he 
wished,  a chance  for  recovering  his  reputation.  Your  courage 
was  past  dispute : — he  wanted  to  get  rid  of  the  contemptible  opin- 
ion he  was  held  in,  and  you  were  good-natured  enough  to  let  him 
do  it  at  your  expense.  It  is  not  now  a time  to  scold,  but  all 


BIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  71 


your  friends  were  of  opinion  you  could,  with  the  greatest  pro- 
priety, have  refused  to  meet  him.  For  my  part,  I shall  suspend 
my  judgment  till  better  informed,  only  I cannot  forgive  your  pre- 
ferring swords. 

“ I am  exceedingly  unhappy  at  the  situation  I leave  you  in  with 
respect  to  money  matters,  the  more  so  as  it  is  totally  out  of  my 
power  to  be  of  any  use  to  you.  Ewart  was  greatly  vexed  at  the 
manner  of  your  drawing  for  the  last  20Z. — I own,  I think  with 
some  reason. 

“ As  to  old  Ewart,  what  you  were  talking  about  is  absolutely 
impossible ; he  is  already  surprised  at  Mr.  Linley’s  long  delay, 
and,  indeed,  I think  the  latter  much  to  blame  in  this  respect.  I 
did  intend  to  give  you  some  account  of  myself  since  my  arrival 
here,  but  you  cannot  conceive  how  I have  been  hurried, — even 
much  pressed  for  time  at  this  present  wiiting,  I must  therefore 
conclude,  with  wishing  you  speedily  restored  to  health,  and  that 
if  I could  make  your  purse  as  whole  as  that  will  shortly  be,  I 
hope,  it  would  make  me  exceedingly  happy. 

“ 1 am,  dear  Dick,  yours  sincerely, 

“ C.  F.  Sheridan.” 

Finding  that  the  suspicion  of  their  marriage,  which  Miss  Lin- 
ley’s unguarded  exclamation  had  suggested,  was  gaining  ground 
in  the  mind  of  both  fathers, — who  seemed  equally  determined  to 
break  the  tie,  if  they  could  arrive  at  some  positive  proof  of  its 
existence, — Sheridan  wrote  frequently  to  his  young  wife,  (who 
passed  most  of  this  anxious  period  with  her  relations  at  Wells,) 
cautioning  her  against  being  led  into  any  acknowledgment,  which 
might  further  the  views  of  the  elders  against  their  happiness. 
Many  methods  were  tried  upon  both  sides,  to  ensnare  them  into  a 
confession  of  this  nature ; but  they  eluded  every  effort,  and  per- 
sisted in  attributing  the  avowal  which  had  escaped  from  Miss 
Linley,  before  Mr.  Panton,  and  others,  to  the  natural  agitation 
and  bewilderment  into  which  her  mind  was  thrown  at  the  in- 
stant. 


72 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


As  soon  as  Sheridan  was  sufficiently  recovered  of  his  wounds,^ 
his  father,  in  order  to  detach  him,  as  much  as  possible,  from  the 
dangerous  recollections  which  continually  presented  themselves  in 
Bath,  sent  him  to  pass  some  months  at  Waltham  Abbey,  in  Es- 
sex, under  the  care  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parker  of  Farm  Hill,  his 
most  particular  friends.  In  this  retirement,  where  he  continued, 
with  but  few  and  short  intervals  of  absence,  from  August  or  Sep- 
tember, 1772,  till  the  spring  of  the  following  year,  it  is  probable 
that,  notwithstanding  the  ferment  in  which  his  heart  was  kept,  he 
occasionally  and  desultorily  occupied  his  hours  in  study.  Among 
other  proofs  of  industry,  which  I have  found  among  his  manuscripts, 
and  which  may  possibly  be  referred  to  this  period,  is  an  abstract 
of  the  History  of  England — ^nearly  filling  a small  quarto  volume 
of  more  than  a hundred  pages,  closely  written.  I have  also  found 
in  his  early  hand-writing  (for  there  was  a considerable  change  in 
his  writing  afterwards)  a collection  of  remarks  on  Sir  William 
Temple’s  works,  which  may  likewise  have  been  among  the  fruits 
of  his  reading  at  Waltham  Abbey. 

These  remarks  are  confined  chiefly  to  verbal  criticism,  and 
prove,  in  many  instances,  that  he  had  not  yet  quite  formed  his 
taste  to  that  idiomatic  English,  which  was  afterwards  one  of  the 
great  charms  of  his  own  dramatic  style.  For  instance,  he  ob- 
jects to  the  following  phrases  : — “ Then  I fell  to  my  task  again.” 
— “ These  things  come^  with  time,  to  be  habitual.” — “ By  which 
these  people  come  to  be  either  scattered  or  destroyed.” — “ Which 
alone  could  pretend  to  contest  27  with  them  :”  (upon  which  phrase 
he  remarks,  “ It  refers  to  nothing  here :”)  and  the  following  grace- 
ful idiom  in  some  verses  by  Temple  : — 

Thy  busy  head  can  find  no  gentle  rest 
For  thinking  on  the  events,”  &c.  &c. 

Some  of  his  obervations,  however,  are  just  and  tasteful. 
Upon  the  Essay  “ Of  Popular  Discontents,”  after  remarking,  that 

* The  Bath  Chronicle  of  the  9th  of  July  has  the  following  paragraph  : “ It  is  with 
great  pleasure  we  inform  our  readers  that  Mr.  Sheridan  is  declared  by  his  surgeon  to  ho 
pij;  of  danger.’^ 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  73 


“ Sir  W.  T.  opens  all  his  Essays  with  something  as  foreign  to 
the  purpose  as  possible,”  he  has  the  following  criticism  “ Page 
260,  ‘ Represent  misfortunes  for  faults,  and  mole-hills  for  moun- 
tains^^— the  metaphorical  and  literal  expression  too  often  coupled. 
P.  262,  ‘ Upon  these  four  wheels  the  chariot  of  state  may  in  all 
appearance  drive  easy  and  safe,  or  at  least  not  be  too  much 
shaken  by  the  usual  roughness  of  ways,  unequal  humors  of  men, 
or  any  common  accidents,’ — another  instance  of  the  confus;on  of 
the  metaphorical  and  literal  expression.” 

Among  the  passages  he  quotes  from  Temple’s  verses,  as  faulty, 
is  the  following  : — 

“ that  we  may  see. 

Thou  art  indeed  the  empress  of  the 

It  is  curious  enough  that  he  himself  was  afterwards  guilty  of 
nearly  as  illicit  a rhyme  in  his  song  “ When  ’tis  night,”  and  al- 
ways defended  it : — 

“ But  when  the  fight’s  begun. 

Each  serving  at  his 

Whatever  grounds  there  may  be  for  referring  these  labors  jf 
Sheridan  to  the  period  of  his  retirement  at  Waltham  Abbey, 
there  are  certainly  but  few  other  intervals  in  his  life  that  could 
be  selected  as  likely  to  have  afforded  him  opportunities  of  read- 
ing. Even  here,  however,  the  fears  and  anxieties  that  beset  him 
were  too  many  and  incessant  to  leave  much  leisure  for  the  pur- 
suits of  scholarship.  However,  a state  of  excitement  may  be 
favorable  to  the  development  of  genius — which  is  often  of  the 
nature  of  those  seas,  that  become  more  luminous  the  more  they 
are  agitated, — for  a student,  a far  different  mood  is  necessary ; 
and  in  order  to  reflect  with  clearness  the  images  that  study  pre- 
sents, the  mind  should  have  its  surface  level  and  unruffled. 

The  situation,  indeed,  of  Sheridan  was  at  this  time  particu- 
larly perplexing.  He  had  won  the  heart,  and  even  hand,  of  the 
woman  he  loved,  yet  saw  his  hopes  of  possessing  her  farther  off 
than  ever.  He  had  twice  risked  his  life  against  an  unworthy 

VpLr  I.  4 


74 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


antagonist,  yet  found  the  vindication  of  his  honor  still  incomplete, 
from  the  misrepresentations  of  enemies,  and  the  yet  more  mis- 
chievous testimony  of  friends.  He  felt  within  himself  all  the 
proud  consciousness  of  genius,  yet,  thrown  on  the  world  with- 
out even  a profession,  looked  in  vain  for  a channel  through  which 
to  direct  its  energies.  Even  the  precarious  hope,  which  his  fa- 
ther’s favor  held  out,  had  been  purchased  by  an  act  of  duplicity 
which  his  conscience  could  not  approve  ; for  he  had  been  induced, 
with  the  view,  perhaps,  of  blinding  his  father’s  vigilance,  not  only 
to  promise  that  he  would  instantly  give  up  a pursuit  so  unpleas- 
ing to  him,  but  to  take  “ an  oath  equivocal”  that  he  never  would 
marry  Miss  Linley. 

The  pressure  of  these  various  anxieties  upon  so  young  and  so 
ardent  a mind,  and  their  effects  in  alternately  kindling  and  damp- 
ing its  spirit,  could  only  have  been  worthily  described  by  him 
who  felt  them ; and  there  still  exist  some  letters  which  he  wrote 
during  this  time,  to  a gentleman  well  known  as  one  of  his  earli- 
est and  latest  friends.  I had  hoped  that  such  a picture,  as  these 
letters  must  exhibit,  of  his  feelings  at  that  most  interesting  period 
of  his  private  life,  would  not  have  been  lost  to  the  present  work. 
But  scruples — over-delicate,  perhaps,  but  respectable,  as  founded 
upon  a systematic  objection  to  the  exposure  of  any  papers,  re- 
ceived under  the  seal  of  private  friendship — forbid  the  publicii- 
tion  of  these  precious  documents.  The  reader  must,  therefore, 
be  satisfied  with  the  few  distant  glimpses  of  their  contents,  which 
are  afforded  by  the  answers  of  his  correspondent,  found  among 
the  papers  entrusted  to  me.  From  these  it  appears,  that  through 
all  his  letters  the  same  strain  of  sadness  and  despondency  pre- 
vailed,— sometimes  breaking  out  into  aspirings  of  ambition,  and 
sometimes  rising  into  a tone  of  cheerfulness,  which  but  ill  concealed 
the  melancholy  under  it.  It  is  evident  also,  and  not  a little  reraarkor- 
ble,  that  in  none  of  these  overflowings  of  his  confidence,  had  he 
as  yet  suffered  the  secret  of  his  French  marriage  with  Miss 
Linley  to  escape  ; and  that  his  friend  accoT'dingly  knew  but  half 
the  wretched  peculiarities  of  his  situation.  Like  most  lovers, 
too,  imagining  (hat  every  one  who  approached  his  mistress  must 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  75 


be  equally  intoxicated  with  her  beauty  as  himself,  he  seems  anx- 
iously to  have  cautioned  his  young  correspondent  (who  occasional- 
ly saw  her  at  Oxford  and  at  Bath)  against  the  danger  that  lay  in 
such  irresistible  charms.  From  another  letter,  where  the  's^o'iter 
refers  to  some  message,  which  Sheridan  had  requested  him  to 
deliver  to  Miss  Linley,  we  learn,  that  she  was  at  this  time  so 
strictly  watched,  as  to  be  unable  to  achieve — what  to  an  ingenious 
woman  is  seldom  difficult — an  answer  to  a letter  which  her  lover 
had  contrived  to  convey  to  her. 

It  was  at  first  the  intention  of  the  elder  Mr.  Sheridan  to  send 
his  daughters,  in  the  course  of  this  autumn,  under  the  care  of 
their  brother  Richard,  to  France.  But,  fearing  to  entrust  them 
to  a guardian  who  seemed  himself  so  much  in  need  of  direction, 
he  altered  his  plan,  and,  about  the  beginning  of  October,  having 
formed  an  engagement  for  the  ensuing  winter  with  the  manager 
of  the  Dublin  theatre,  gave  up  his  house  in  Bath,  and  set  out 
with  his  daughters  for  Ireland.  At  the  same  time  Mr.  Grenville, 
(afterwards  Marquis  of  Buckingham,)  who  had  passed  a great 
part  of  this  and  the  preceding  summer  at  Bath,  for  the  purpose 
of  receiving  instruction  from  Mr.  Sheridan  in  elocution,  went  also 
to  Dublin  on  a short  visit,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Cleaver,  and  by 
his  brother  Mr.  Thomas  Grenville — between  whom  and  Richard 
Sheridan  an  intimacy  had  at  this  period  commenced,  which  con- 
tinued with  uninterrupted  cordiality  ever  after. 

Some  time  previous  to  the  departure  of  the  elder  Mr.  Sheridan 
for  Ireland,  having  taken  before  a magistrate  the  dep^kions  of 
the  postillions  who  were  witnesses  of  the  duel  at  Kingsoown,  he 
had  earnestly  entreated  of  his  son  to  join  him  in  a prosecution 
against  Mathews,  whose  conduct  on  the  occasion  he  and  others 
considered  as  by  no  means  that  of  a fair  and  honorable  antago- 
nist. It  was  in  contemplation  of  a measure  of  this  nature,  that 
the  account  of  the  meeting  already  given  was  drawn  up  by  Mr. 
Barnett,  and  deposited  in  the  hands  of  Captain  W ade.  Though 
Sheridan  refused  to  join  in  legal  proceedings — from  an  unwil- 
lingness, perhaps,  to  keep  Miss  Linley ’s  name  any  longer  afloat 
upon  public  conversation — j^et  this  revival  of  the  subject^ 


76 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


and  the  conflicting  statements  to  which  it  gave  rise,  produced 
naturally  in  both  parties  a relapse  of  angry  feelings,  which  was 
very  near  ending  in  a thii'd  duel  betw^een  them.  The  authen- 
ticity given  by  Captain  Paumier’s  name  to  a narrative  which 
Sheridan  considered  false  and  injurious,  was  for  some  time  a 
source  of  considerable  mortification  to  him;  and  it  must  be 
owned,  that  the  helpless  irresolution  of  this  gentleman  during 
the  duel,  and  his  w'eak  acquiescence  in  these  misrepresentations 
afterwards,  showed  him  as  unfit  to  be  trusted  with  the  life  as 
with  the  character  of  his  friend. 

How  nearly  this  new  train  of  misunderstanding  had  led  to 
another  explosion,  appears  from  one  of  the  letters  already  re- 
ferred to,  written  in  December,  and  directed  to  Sheridan  at  the 
Bedford  Coffee-house,  Co  vent  Garden,  in  which  the  writer  ex- 
presses the  most  friendly  and  anxious  alarm  at  the  intelligence 
which  he  has  just  received, — implores  of  Sheridan  to  moderate 
his  rage,  and  reminds  him  how  often  he  had  resolved  never  to 
have  any  concern  with  Mathews  again.  Some  explanation, 
however,  took  place,  as  we  collect  from  a letter  dated  a few 
days  later ; and  the  world  was  thus  spared  not  only  such  an 
instance  of  inveteracy,  as  three  duels  between  the  same  two  men 
would  have  exhibited,  but,  perhaps,  the  premature  loss  of  a life 
to  which  we  are  indebted,  for  an  example  as  noble  in  its  excite- 
ments, and  a lesson  as  useful  in  its  warnings,  as  ever  genius  and 
its  errors  have  bequeathed  to  mankind. 

The  ^(tOwing  Lent,  Miss  Linley  appeared  in  the  oratorios  at 
Co  vent  Garden  ; and  Sheridan,  who,  from  the  nearness  of  his 
retreat  to  London,  (to  use  a phrase  of  his  own,  repeated  in  one 
of  his  friend’s  letters),  “trod  upon  the  heels  of  perilous  proba- 
bilities,” though  prevented  by  the  vigilance  of  her  father  from  a 
private  interview,  had  frequent  opportunities  of  seeing  her  in 
public.  Among  many  other  stratagems  which  he  contrived,  for 
the  purpose  of  exchanging  a few  words  with  her,  he  more  than 
once  disguised  himself  as  a hackney-coachman,  and  drove  her 
home  from  the  theatre. 

It  appears,  however,  that  a serious  misunderstonding  at  this 


BIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  ?? 


time  occurred  between  them, — originating  probably  in  some  of 
those  paroxysms  of  jealousy,  into  which  a lover  like  Sheridan 
must  have  been  conthiually  thrown,  by  the  numerous  admirers 
and  pursuers  of  all  kinds,  which  the  beauty  and  celebrity  of  his 
mistress  attracted.  Among  various  alliances  invented  for  her 
by  the  public  at  this  period,  it  was  rumored  that  she  was  about 
to  be  married  to  Sir  Thomas  Clarges ; and  in  the  Bath  Chronicle 
of  April,  1773,  a correspondence  is  given  as  authentic  between 
her  and  ‘‘  Lord  Grosvenor,”  which,  though  pretty  evidently  a 
fabrication,  yet  proves  the  high  opinion  entertained  of  the  purity 
of  her  character.  The  correspondence  is  thus  introduced,  in  a 
letter  to  the  editor: — “The  following  letters  are  confidently  said 

to  have  passed  between  Lord  G r and  the  celebrated 

English  syren,  Miss  L -y.  I send  them  to  you  for  publica- 

tion, not  with  any  view  to  increase  the  volume  of  literary  scan- 
dal, which,  I am  sorry  to  say,  at  present  needs  no  assistance, 
but  with  the  most  laudable  intent  of  setting  an  example  for  our 
modern  belles,  by  holding  out  the  character  of  a young  woman, 
who,  notwithstanding  the  solicitations  of  her  profession,  and  the 
flattering  example  of  higher  ranks,  has  added  incorruptible  virtue 
to  a number  of  the  most  elegant  qualifications.” 

Whatever  may  have  caused  the  misunderstanding  between  her 
and  her  lover,  a reconcilement  was  with  no  great  difficulty  effect- 
ed, by  the  mediation  of  Sheridan’s  young  friend,  Mr.  Ewart ; 
and,  at  length,  after  a series  of  stratagems  and  scenes,  which  con- 
vinced Mr.  Linley  that  it  was  impossible  much  longer  to  keep 
them  asunder,  he  consented  to  their  union,  and  on  the  13th  of 
April,  1773,  they  were  married  by  license"^ — Mr.  Ewart  being 
at  the  same  time  wedded  to  a young  lady  with  whom  he  also  had 
eloped  clandestinely  to  France,  but  was  now  enabled,  by  the  for- 
giveness of  his  father,  to  complete  this  double  triumph  of  friend- 
ship and  love. 

A curious  instance  of  the  indolence  and  procrastinating  habits 
of  Sheridan  used  to  be  related  by  W oodfall,  as  having  occurred 

* Thus  announced  in  the  Gentleman’s  Magazine  : — “Mr.  Sheridan  of  the  Temple  to  the 
celebrated  Miss  Linley  of  Balh.’^ 


78 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


about  this  time.  A statement  of  his  conduct  in  the  duels  having 
appeared  in  one  of  the  Bath  papers,  so  false  and  calumnious  as 
to  require  an  immediate  answer,  he  called  upon  Woodfall  to 
request  that  his  paper  might  be  the  medium  of  it.  But  wish- 
ing, as  he  said,  that  the  public  should  have  the  whole  matter 
fairly  before  them,  he  thought  it  right  that  the  offensive  state- 
ment should  first  be  inserted,  and  in  a day  or  two  after  be  fol- 
lowed by  his  answer,  which  would  thus  come  with  more  rele- 
vancy and  effect.  In  compliance  with  his  wish,  Woodfall  lost 
not  a moment  in  transcribing  the  calumnious  article  into  his 
columns — not  doubting,  of  course,  that  the  refutation  of  it  would 
be  furnished  with  still  greater  eagerness.  Day  after  day,  how- 
ever, elapsed,  and,  notwithstanding  frequent  applications  on  the 
one  side,  and  promises  on  the  other,  not  a line  of  the  answer  was 
ever  sent  by  Sheridan, — who,  having  expended  all  his  activity  in 
assisting  the  circulation  of  the  poison,  had  not  industry  enough 
left  to  supply  the  antidote.  Throughout  his  whole  life,  indeed, 
he  but  too  consistently  acted  upon  the  principles,  which  the  first 
Lord  Holland  used  playfully  to  impress  upon  his  son  : — ■“  Never 
do  to-day  what  you  can  possibly  put  off  till  to-morrow,  nor  ever 
do,  yourself,  what  you  can  get  any  one  else  to  do  for  you.” 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  ?9 


CHAPTER  III. 

DOMESTIC  CIRCUMSTANCES. — FRAGMENTS  OF  ESSAYS  FOUND 

AMONG  HIS  PAPERS. — COMEDY  OF  ‘‘ THE  RIVALS.” — AN- 
SWER TO  “TAXATION  NO  TYRANNY.” — FARCE  OF  “ ST. 

Patrick’s  day.” 

A FEW  weeks  previous  to  his  marriage,  Sheridan  had  been  en- 
tered a student  of  the  Middle  Temple.  It  was  not,  however,  to 
be  expected  that  talents  like  his,  so  sure  of  a quick  return  of  fame 
and  emolument,  would  wait  for  the  distant  and  dearly-earned 
emoluments  which  a life  of  labor  in  this  profession  promises. 
Nor,  indeed,  did  his  circumstances  admit  of  any  such  patient  spe- 
culation. A part  of  the  sum  which  Mr.  Long  had  settled  upon 
Miss  Linley,  and  occasional  assistance  from  her  father  (his  own 
Raving  withdrawn  all  countenance  from  him),  were  now  the  only 
resources,  besides  his  own  talents,  left  him.  The  celebrity  of  Mrs. 
Sheridan  as  a singer  was,  it  is  true,  a ready  source  of  wealth ; 
and  offers  of  the  most  advantageous  kind  were  pressed  upon  them, 
by  managers  of  concerts  both  in  town  and  country.  But  with  a 
pride  and  delicacy,  which  received  the  tribute  of  Dr.  Johnson's 
praise,  he  rejected  at  once  all  thoughts  of  allowing  her  to  re-ap- 
pear  in  public ; and,  instead  of  profiting  by  the  display  of  his 
wife’s  talents,  adopted  the  manlier  resolution  of  seeking  an  inde- 
pendence by  his  own.  An  engagement  had  been  made  for  her 
some  months  before  by  her  father,  to  perform  at  the  music-meet- 
ing that  was  to  take  place  at  Worcester  this  summer.  But  Sher- 
idan, who  considered  that  his  own  claims  upon  her  had  superse- 
ded all  others,  would  not  suffer  her  to  keep  this  engagement. 

How  decided  his  mind  was  upon  the  subject  will  appear  from 
the  following  letter,  written  by  him  to  Mr.  Linley  about  a month 


80  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  TH^ 

after  his  marriage,  and  containing  some  other  interesting  particu- 
lars, that  show  the  temptations  with  which  his  pride  had,  at  this 
time,  to  struggle : — 

“ Dear  Sir,  East  Burnhamy  May  12,  1773. 

“ I purposely  deferred  writing  to  you  till  I should  have  settled 
all  matters  in  LfOndon,  and  in  some  degree  settled  ourselves  at 
our  little  home.  Some  unforeseen  delays  prevented  my  finishing 
wi^h  Swale  till  Thursday  last,  when  everything  was  concluded. 

I likewise  settled  with  him  for  his  own  account,  as  he  brought  it 
to  me,  and,  for  a friendly  bill,  it  is  pretty  decent. — Yours  of  the 
3d  instant  did  not  reach  me  till  yesterday,  by  reason  of  its  miss- 
ing us  at  Morden.  As  to  the  principal  point  it  treats  of,  I had 
given  my  answer  some  days  ago,  to  Mr,  Isaac  of  Worcester. 
He  had  enclosed  a letter  to  Storace  for  my  wife,  in  which  he 
dwells  much  on  the  nature  of  the  agreement  you  had  made  for  her 
eight  months  ago,  and  adds,  that  ‘ as  this  is  no  new  application, 
but  a request  that  you  (Mrs.  S.)  will  fulfil  a positive  engagement, 
the  breach  of  which  v^ould  prove  of  fatal  consequence  to  our 
meeting,  I hope  Mr.  Sheridan  will  think  his  honor  in  some  degree 
concerned  in  fulfilling  it.’ — Mr.  Storace,  in  order  to  enforce  Mr. 
Isaac’s  argument,  showed  me  his  letter  on  the  same  subject  to 
him,  which  begins  with  saying,  ‘ W e must  have  Mrs.  Sheridan, 
somehow  or  other,  if  possible  !’ — the  plain  English  of  which  is 
that,  if  her  husband  is  not  willing  to  let  her  perform,  we  will  per- 
suade him  that  he  acts  dishonorably  in  preventing  her  from  ful- 
filling a positive  engagement.  This  I conceive  to  be  the  very  worst 
mode  of  application  that  could  have  been  taken ; as  there  really 
is  not  common  sense  in  the  idea  that  my  honor  can  be  concerned 
in  my  wife’s  fulfilling  an  engagement,  which  it  is  impossible  she 
should  ever  have  made. — Nor  (as  I wrote  to  Mr.  Isaac)  can  you, 
who  gave  the  promise,  whatever  it  was,  be  in  the  least  charged 
with  the  breach  of  it,  as  your  daughter’s  marriage  was  an  event 
which  must  always  have  been  looked  to  by  them  as  quite  as  na- 
tural a period  to  your  right  over  her  as  her  death.  And,  in  my 
opinion,  it  would  have  been  just  as  reasonable  to  have  applied  to 


fiiGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  81 

you  to  fulfil  your  engagement  in  the  latter  case  as  in  the  former. 
As  to  the  imprudence  of  declining  this  engagement,  I do  not  think, 
even  were  we  to  suppose  that  my  wife  should  ever  on  any  occa- 
sion appear  again  in  public,  there  would  be  the  least  at  present. 
For  instance,  I have  had  a gentleman  with  me  from  Oxford 
(where  they  do  not  claim  the  least  right  as  from  an  engagement), 
who  has  endeavored  to  place  the  idea  of  my  complimenting  the 
University  with  Betsey’s  performance  in  the  strongest  light  of 
advantage  to  me.  This  he  said,  on  my  declining  to  let  her  perform 
on  any  agreement.  He  likewise  informed  me,  that  he  had  just 
left  Lord  North  (the  Chancellor),  who,  he  assured  me,  would  look 
upon  it  as  the  highest  compliment,  and  had  expressed  himself  so 
to  him.  Now,  should  it  be’ a point  of  inclination  or  convenience 
to  me  to  break  my  resolution  with  regard  to  Betsey’s  performing, 
there  surely  would  be  more  sense  in  obliging  Lord  North  (and 
probably  from  his  024^/1  application)  and  the  University,  than  Lord 
Coventry  and  Mr.  Isaac.  For,  were  she  to  sing  at  Worcester, 
there  would  not  be  the  least  compliment  in  her  performing  at 
Oxford.  Indeed,  they  would  have  a right  to  claim  it — particu- 
larly, as  that  is  the  mode  of  application  they  have  chosen  from 
Worcester.  I have  mentioned  the  Oxford  matter  merely  as  an 
argument,  that  I can  have  no  kind  of  inducement  to  accept  of  the 
proposal  from  Worcester.  And,  as  I have  written  fully  on  the 
subject  to  Mr.  Isaac,  I think  there  will  be  no  occasion  for  you  to 
give  any  further  reasons  to  Lord  Coventry — only  that  I am  sorry 
I cannot  accept  of  his  proposal,  civilities,  &c.  &c.,  and  refer  him 
for  my  motives  to  Mr.  Isaac,  as  what  I have  said  to  you  on  the 
subject  I mean  for  you  only,  and,  if  more  remains  to  be  argued 
on  the  subject  in  general,  we  must  defer  it  till  we  meet,  which 
you  have  given  us  reason  to  hope  will  not  be  long  first. 

“ As  this  is  a letter  of  business  chiefly,  I shall  say  little  of  our 
situation  and  arrangement  of  affairs,  but  that  I think  we  are  as 
happy  as  those  who  wish  us  best  could  desire.  There  is  but  one 
thing  that  has  the  least  weight  upon  me,  though  it  is  one  I was 
prepared  for.  But  time,  while  it  strengthens  the  other  blessings 
we  possess,  will,  I hope,  add  that  to  the  number.  You  will  know 
4-^ 


VOL.  I. 


82 


MEMOIRS  OF  TEtE  LIFE  OF  LlLE 


that  I speak  with  regard  to  my  father.  Betsey  informs  me  yon 
have  written  to  him  again — have  you  heard  from  him  1 * * 

******* 

“ I should  hope  to  hear  from  you  very  soon,  and  I assure  you, 
you  shall  now  find  me  a very  exact  correspondent ; though  I hope 
you  will  not  give  me  leave  to  confirm  my  character  in  that  re- 
spect before  we  meet. 

“ As  there  is  with  this  a letter  for  Polly  and  you,  I shall  only 
charge  you  with  mine  and  Betsey’s  best  love  to  her,  mother,  and 
Tom,  &c.  &c.,  and  believe  me  your  sincere  friend  and  affectionate 
son, 

“ R.  B.  Sheridan.” 

At  East  Burnham,  from  whence  this  letter  is  dated,  they  were 
now  living  in  a small  cottage,  to  which  they  had  retired  imme- 
diately on  their  marriage,  and  to  which  they  often  looked  back 
with  a sigh  in  after-times,  when  they  were  more  prosperous,  but 
less  happy.  It  was  during  a very  short  absence  from  this  cot- 
tage, that  the  following  lines  were  written  by  him : — - 

Teack  me,  kind  Hymen,  teach,  for  thou 
Must  be  my  only  tutor  now, — 

Teach  me  some  innocent  employ, 

That  shall  the  hateful  thought  destroy, 

That  I this  whole  long  night  must  pass 
In  exile  from  my  love’s  embrace. 

Alas,  thou  hast  no  wings,  oh  Time  !* 

It  was  some  thoughtless  lover’s  rhyme, 

Who,  writing  in  his  Chloe’s  view. 

Paid  her  the  compliment  through  you. 

For  had  he,  if  he  truly  lov’d. 

But  once  the  pangs  of  absence  prov’d. 

He’d  cropt  thy  wings,  and,  in  their  stead. 

Have  painted  thee  with  heels  of  lead. 

But  ’tis  the  temper  of  the  mind. 

Where  we  thy  regulator  find, 
still  o’er  the  gay  and  o’er  the  young 
With  unfijlt  steps  you  flit  along, — 

♦ It  will  be  perceived  that  the  eight  following  lines  are  the  foumlalion  of  the  song 
“ What  bard,  oh  Time,”  in  the  Duenna. 


EiGST  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  83 


As  YirgiPs  nymph  o’er  ripen’d  corn, 

With  such  ethereal  haste  was  borne, 

That  every  stock,  with  upright  head. 

Denied  the  pressure  of  her  tread. 

But  o’er  the  wretched,  oh,  how  slow 
And  heavy  sweeps  thy  scythe  of  woe  ! 

Oppress’d  beneath  each  stroke  they  bow, 

Thy  course  engraven  on  their  brow  : 

A day  of  absence  shalT  consume 

The  glow  of  youth  and  manhood’s  bloom, 

And  one  short  night  of  anxious  fear 
Shall  leave  the  wrinkles  of  a year. 

For  me  who,  when  I’m  happy,  owe 
No  thanks  to  fortune  that  I’m  so. 

Who  long  have  learned  to  look  at  one 
Dear  object,  and  at  one  alone. 

For  all  the  joy,  or  all  the  sorrow. 

That  gilds  the  day,  or  threats  the  morrow, 

I never  felt  thy  footsteps  light. 

But  when  sweet  love  did  aid  thy  flight. 

And,  banish’d  from  his  blest  dominion, 

I cared  not  for  thy  borrowed  pinion. 

True,  she  is  mine,  and,  since  she’s  mine, 

At  trifles  I should  not  repine  ; 

But  oh,  the  miser’s  real  pleasure 
Is  not  in  knowing  he  has  treasure  ; 

He  must  behold  his  golden  store. 

And  feel,  and  count  his  riches  o’er. 

Thus  I,  of  one  dear  gem  possest. 

And  in  that  treasure  only  blest. 

There  every  day  would  seek  delight. 

And  clasp  the  casket  every  night.” 

Towards  the  winter  they  went  to  lodge  for  a short  time  with 
Storace,  the  intimate  friend  of  Mr.  Linley,  and  in  the  following 
year  attained  that  first  step  of  independence,  a house  to  them- 
selves ; Mr.  Linley  having  kindly  supplied  the  furniture  of  their 
new  residence,  which  was  in  Orchard-Street,  Portman-Square. 
During  the  summer  of  1774,  they  passed  some  time  at  Mr.  Can- 
ning’s and  Lord  Coventry’s ; hut,  so  little  did  these  visits  inter- 
fere with  the  literary  industry  of  Sheridan,  that,  as  appears  from 


84 


MEMOIRS  OF  TflE  LIFE  OF  THE 


the  following  letter,  w^ritten  to  Mr.  Linley  in  November,  he  had 
not  only  at  that  time  finished  his  play  of  the  Rivals,  but  was  on 
the  point  of  “ sending  a book  to  the  press — 


“Dear  Sir,  Nov,  1774. 

“ If  I were  to  attempt  to  maKe  as  many  apologies  as  my  long 
omission  in  writing  to  you  requires,  I should  have  no  room  for 
any  other  subject.  One  excuse  only  I shall  bring  forward,  which 
is,  that  I have  been  exceedingly  employed,  and  I believe  very 
profitably.  However,  before  I explain  how,  I must  ease  my 
mind  on  a subject  that  much  more  nearly  concerns  me  than  any 
point  of  business  or  profit.  I must  premise  to  you  that  Betsey 
is  now  very  well,  before  I tell  you  abruptly  that  she  has  encoun- 
tered another  disappointment,  and  consequent  indisposition. 
* ^ * However,  she  is  now  getting  entirely  over  it,  and 

she  shall  never  take  any  journey  of  the  kind  again.  I inform 
you  of  this  now',  that  you  may  not  be  alarmed  by  any  accounts 
from  some  other  quarter,  which  might  lead  you  to  fear  she  w^as 
going  to  have  such  an  illness  as  last  year,  of  which  I assure  you, 
upon  my  honor,  there  is  not  the  least  apprehension.  If  I did 
not  write  now,  Betsey  would  write  herself,  and  in  a day  she  will 
make  you  quite  easy  on  this  head. 

“ I have  been  very  seriously  at  work  on  a book,  which  I am 
just  now  sending  to  the  press,  and  which  I think  wfill  do  me 
some  credit,  if  it  leads  to  nothing  else.  Plowever,  the  profitable 
affair  is  of  another  nature.  There  will  be  a Comedy  of  mine  in 
rehearsal  at  Covent-Garden  within  a few  days.  I did  not  set  to 
work  on  it  till  within  a few  days  of  my  setting  out  for  Crome^ 
so  you  may  think  I have  not,  for  these  last  six  weeks,  been  very 
idle.  I have  done  it  at  Mr.  Harris’s  (the  manager’s)  owm  re- 
quest ; it  is  now  complete  in  his  hands,  and  preparing  for  the 
stage.  He,  and  some  of  his  friends  also  who  have  heard  it, 
assure  me  in  the  most  flattering  terms  that  there  is  not  a doubt 
of  its  success.  It  will  be  very  well  played,  and  Harris  tells  me 
that  the  least  shilling  I shall  get  (if  it  succeeds)  will  be  six  bun- 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  85 

dred  pounds.  I shall  make  no  secret  of  it  towards  the  time  of 
representation,  that  it  may  not  lose  any  support  my  friends  can 
give  it.  I had  not  written  a line  of  it  two  months  ago,  except  a 
scene  or  two,  which  I believe  you  have  seen  in  an  odd  act  of  a 
little  farce. 

“ Mr.  Stanley  was  with  me  a day  or  two  ago  on  the  subject  of 
the  oratorios.  I found  Mr.  Smith  has  declined,  and  is  retiring  to 
Bath.  Mr.  Stanley  informed  me  that  on  his  applying  to  the 
king  for  the  continuance  of  his  favor,  he  was  desired  by  his 
Majesty  to  make  me  an  offer  of  Mr.  Smith’s  situation  and  part- 
nership  in  them,  and  that  he  should  continue  his  protection,  &c. 
I declined  the  matter  very  civilly  and  very  peremptorily.  I 
should  imagine  that  Mr.  Stanley  would  apply  to  you  ; — I started 
the  subject  to  him,  and  said  you  had  twenty  Mrs.  Sheridans  more. 
However,  he  said  very  little  : — if  he  does,  and  you  wish  to  make 
an  alteration  in  your  system  at  once,  I should  think  you  may 
stand  in  Smith’s  place.  I would  not  listen  to  him  on  any  other 
terms,  and  I should' think  the  King  might  be  made  to  signify  his 
pleasure  for  such  an  arrangement.  On  this  you  will  reflect,  and 
if  any  way  strikes  you  that  I can  move  in  it,  I need  not  add  how 
happy  I shall  be  in  its  success. 

* * * * 

“ I hope  you  will  let  me  have  the  pleasure  to  hear  from  you 
soon,  as  I shall  think  any  delay  unfair, — unless  you  can  plead 
that  you  are  writing  an  opera,  and  a folio  on  music  besides.  Ac- 
cept Betsey’s  love  and  duty. 

‘‘  Your  sincere  and  affectionate 

“R.  B.  Sheridan.” 

What  the  book  here  alluded  to  was,  I cannot  with  any  ac- 
curacy ascertain.  Besides  a few  sketches  of  plays  and  poems, 
of  which  I shall  give  some  account  in  a subsequent  Chapter,  there 
exist  among  his  papers  several  fragments  of  Essays  and  Letters, 
all  of  which — including  the  unfinished  plays  and  poems — must 
have  been  written  by  him  in  the  interval  between  1769,  when 


86 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


he  left  Harrow,  and  the  present  year ; though  at  what  precise 
dates  during  that  period  there  are  no  means  of  judging. 

Among  these  there  are  a few  political  Letters,  evidently  de- 
signed for  the  newspapers  ; — some  of  them  but  half  copied  out, 
and  probably  never  sent.  One  of  this  description,  which  must 
have  been  written  immediately  on  his  leaving  school,  is  a piece 
of  irony  against  the  Duke  of  Grafton,  giving  reasons  why  that 
nobleman  should  not  lose  his  head,  and,  under  the  semblance  of 
a defence,  exaggerating  all  the  popular  charges  against  him. 

The  first  argument  (he  says)  of  the  Duke’s  adversaries,  “ is 
founded  on  the  regard  which  ought  to  be  paid  to  justice,  and  on 
the  good  effects  which,  they  affirm,  such  an  example  w'ould  have, 
in  suppressing  the  ambition  of  any  future  minister.  But  if  I can 

prove  that  his might  be  made  a much  greater  example  of 

by  being  suffered  to  live,  I think  I may,  without  vanity,  affirm 
that  their  whole  argument  will  fall  to  the  ground.  ^ By  pursuing 

the  methods  which  they  propose,  viz.  chopping  off  his ’s  head, 

I allow  the  impression  would  be  stronger  at  first ; but  we  should 

consider  how  soon  that  wears  off.  If,  indeed,  his ’s  crimes 

were  of  such  a nature,  as  to  entitle  his  head  to  a place  on  Temple- 
Bar,  I should  allow  some  weight  to  their  argument.  But,  in  the 
present  case,  we  should  reflect  how  apt  mankind  are  to  relent 
after  they  have  inflicted  punishment ; — so  that,  perhaps,  the  same 
men  who  would  have  detested  the  noble  Lord,  while  alive  and  in 
prosperity,  pointing  him  as  a scarecrow  to  their  children,  might, 
after  being  witnesses  to  the  miserable  fate  that  had  overtaken 
him,  begin  in  their  hearts  to  pity  him ; and  from  the  fickleness  so 
common  to  human  nature,  perhaps,  by  way  of  compensation,  ac- 
quit him  of  part  of  his  crimes ; insinuate  that  he  was  dealt  hardly 
with,  and  thus,  by  the  remembrance  of  their  compassion,  on 
this  occasion,  be  led  to  show  more  indulgence  to  any  future 
offender  in  the  same  circumstances.”  There  is  a clearness  of 
thought  and  style  here  very  remarkable  in  so  young  a writer. 

- In  affecting  to  defend  the  Duke  against  the  charge  of  fickleness 
and  unpunctuality,  he  says,  ‘‘  I think  I could  bring  several  in- 


RIGHT  HON  -RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  87 


stances  which  should  seem  to  promise  the  greatest  steadiness  and 
resolution.  I have  known  him  make  the  Council  wait,  on  the 
business  of  the  whole  nation,  when  he  has  had  an  appointment  to 
Newmarket.  Surely,  this  is  an  instance  of  the  greatest  honor  ; 
and,  if  we  see  him  so  punctual  in  private  appointments,  must  we 
not  conclude  that  he  is  infinitely  more  so  in  greater  matters  ? 

Nay,  when  W s*^  came  over,  is  it  not  notorious  that  the  late 

Lord  Mayor  went  to  His  Grace  on  that  evening,  proposing  a 
scheme  which,  by  securing  this  fire-brand,  might  have  put  an  end 
to  all  the  troubles  he  has  caused  ? But  His  Grace  did  not  see 
him  ; — no,  he  was  a man  of  too  much  honor ; — he  had  ‘promised 
that  evening  to  attend  Nancy  Parsons  to  Ranelagh,  and  he  would 
not  disappoint  her,  but  made  three  thousand  people  witnesses  of 
his  punctuality.” 

There  is  another  Letter,  which  happens  to  be  dated  (1770),  ad- 
dressed to  “Novus,” — some  writer  in  Woodfall’s  Public  Adver- 
tiser,— and  appearing  to  be  one  of  a series  to  the  same  corres- 
pondent. From  the  few  political  allusions  introduced  in  this  let- 
ter, (which  is  occupied  chiefly  in  an  attack  upon  the  literary  style 
of  Novus,”)  we  can  collect  that  the  object  of  Sheridan  was  to 
defend  the  new  ministry  of  Lord  North,  who  had,  in  the  be^n- 
ning  of  that  year,  succeeded  the  Duke  of  Grafton.  Junius  was 
just  then  in  the  height  of  his  power  and  reputation ; and  as,  in 
English  literature,  one  great  voice  always  produces  a multitude 
of  echoes,  it  was  thought  at  that  time  indispensable  to  every  let- 
ter-writer in  a newspaper,  to  be  a close  copyist  of  the  style  of 
Junius  : of  course,  our  young  political  tyro  followed  this  “ mould 
of  form”  as  well  as  the  rest.  Thus,  in  addressing  his  correspon- 
dent : — ‘‘  That  gloomy  seriousness  in  your  style, — that  seeming 
consciousness  of  superiority,  together  with  the  consideration  of 
the  infinite  pains  it  must  have  cost  you  to  have  been  so  elabor- 
ately wrong, — will  not  suffer  me  to  attribute  such  numerous 
errors  to  any  thing  but  real  ignorance,  joined  with  most  consum 
mate  vanity.”  The  following  is  a specimen  of  his  acuteness  in 


♦ Wilkes. 


88 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


criticising  the  absurd  style  of  his  adversary  : — ‘‘You  leave  it  rar 
ther  dubious  whether  you  were  most  pleased  with  the  glorious 
opposition  to  Charles  I.  or  the  dangerous  designs  of  that  monarch, 
which  you  emphatically  call  ‘ the  arbitrary  projects  of  a Stuart’s 
nature.’  What  do  you  mean  by  the  projects  of  a man’s  nature  ? 
A man’s  natural  disposition  may  urge  him  to  the  commission  of 
some  actions ; — ^Nature  may  instigate  and  encourage,  but  I be 
lieve  you  are  the  first  that  ever  made  her  a projector.” 

It  is  amusing  to  observe,  that,  while  he  thus  criticises  the  style 
and  language  of  his  correspondent,  his  own  spelling,  in  every 
second  line,  convicts  him  of  deficiency  in  at  least  one  common 
branch  of  literary  acquirement : — we  find  thing  always  spelt 
think  ; — whether^  where^  and  which^  turned  into  wether^  were^  and 
wich  ; — and  double  ms  and  s's  almost  invariably  reduced  to 
“ single  blessedness.”  This  sign  of  a neglected  education  re- 
mained with  him  to  a very  late  period,  and,  in  his  hasty  writing, 
or  scribbling,  would  occasionally  recur  to  the  last. 

From  these  Essays  for  the  newspapers  it  may  be  seen  how  early 
was  the  bias  of  his  mind  towards  politics.  It  was,  indeed,  the 
rival  of  literature  in  his  affections  during  all  the  early  part  of  his 
life,  and,  at  length, — whether  luckily  for  himself  or  not  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  say, — gained  the  mastery. 

There  are  also  among  his  manuscripts  some  commencements  of 
Periodical  Papers,  under  various  names,  “ The  Detector,”  “ The 
Dramatic  Censor,”  &c. ; — none  of  them,  apparently,  carried  be- 
yond the  middle  of  the  first  number.  But  one  of  the  most  cu- 
rious of  these  youthful  productions  is  a Letter  to  the  Queen,  re- 
commending the  establishment  of  an  Institution,  for  the  instruc- 
tion and  maintenance  of  young  females  in  the  better  classes  of 
life,  who,  from  either  the  loss  of  their  parents,  or  from  poverty,  are 
without  the  means  of  being  brought  up  suitably  to  their  station. 
He  refers  to  the  asylum  founded  by  Madame  de  Maintenon,  at 
St.  Cyr,  as  a model,  and  proposes  that  the  establishment  should 
be  placed  under  the  patronage  of  Her  Majesty,  and  entitled  “ The 
Royal  Sanctuary.”  The  reader,  however,  has  to  arrive  at  the 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  89 

practical  part  of  the  plan,  through  long  and  flowery  windings  of 
panegyric,  on  the  beauty,  genius,  and  virtue  of  women,  and  their 
transcendent  superiority,  in  every  respect,  over  men. 

The  following  sentence  will  give  some  idea  of  the  sort  of  elo- 
quence with  which  he  prefaces  this  grave  proposal  to  Her  Ma- 
jesty : — “ The  dispute  about  the  proper  sphere  of  women  is  idle. 
That  men  should  have  attempted  to  draw  a line  for  their  orbit, 
shows  that  God  meant  them  for  comets,  and  above  our  jurisdic- 
tion. With  them  the  enthusiasm  of  poetry  and  the  idolatry  of 
love  is  the  simple  voice  of  nature.”  There;  are,  indeed,  many  pas- 
sages of  this  boyish  composition,  a good  deal  resembling  in  their 
style  those  ambitious  apostrophes  with  which  he  afterwards  orna- 
mented his  speeches  on  the  trial  of  Hastings. 

He  next  proceeds  to  remark  to  Her  Majesty,  that  in  those 
countries  where  “ man  is  scarce  better  than  a brute,  he  shows  his 
degeneracy  by  his  treatment  of  women,”  and  again  falls  into  met- 
aphor, not  very  clearly  made  out : — “ The  influence  that  women 
have  over  us  is  as  the  medium  through  which  the  finer  Arts  act 
upon  us.  The  incense  of  our  love  and  respect  for  them  creates 
the  atmosphere  of  our  souls,  which  corrects  and  meliorates  the 
beams  of  knowledge.” 

The  following  is  in  a better  style : — “ However,  in  savage 
countries,  where  the  pride  of  man  has  not  fixed  the  first  dictates 
of  ignorance  into  law,  we  see  the  real  effects  of  nature.  The 
wild  Huron  shall,  to  the  object  of  his  love,  become  gentle  as  his 
weary  rein-deer  ; — he  shall  present  to  her  the  spoil  of  his  bow  on 
his  knee ; — he  shall  watch  without  reward  the  cave  where  she 
sleeps  ; — he  shall  rob  the  birds  for  feathers  for  her  hair,  and  dive 
for  pearls  for  her  neck ; — her  look  shall  be  his  law,  and  her  beau- 
ties his  worship  !”  He  then  endeavors  to  prove  that,  as  it  is  the 
destiny  of  man  to  be  ruled  by  woman,  he  ought,  for  his  own  sake, 
to  render  her  as  fit  for  that  task  as  possible  : — “ How  can  we  be 
better  employed  than  in  perfecting  that  which  governs  us  ? The 
brighter  they  are,  the  more  we  shall  be  illumined.  Were  the 
minds  of  all  women  cultivated  by  inspiration,  men  would  become 
wise  of  course.  They  are  a sort  of  pentagraphs  with  which  na- 


90 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


ture  writes  on  the  heart  of  man ; — what  she  delineates  on  the  ori 
ginal  map  will  appear  on  the  copy.” 

In  showing  how  much  less  women  are  able  to  struggle  against 
adversity  than  men,  he  says,— “ As  for  us,  we  are  born  in  a state 
of  warfare  with  poverty  and  distress.  The  sea  of  adversity  is  our 
natural  element,  and  he  that  will  not  buffet  with  the  billows  de- 
serves to  sink.  But  you,  oh  you,  by  nature  formed  of  gentler 
kind,  can  you  endure  the  biting  storm  ? shall  you  be  turned  to 
the  nipping  blast,  and  not  a door  be  open  to  give  you  shelter 
After  describing,  with  evident  seriousness,  the  nature  of  the 
institution  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  at  St.  Cyr,  he  adds  the  fol- 
lowing strange  romantic  allusion  “ Had  such  a charity  as  I have 
been  speaking  of  existed  here,  the  mild  Parthenia  and  my  poor 
Laura  would  not  have  fallen  into  untimely  graves.” 

The  practical  details  of  his  plan,  in  which  it  is  equally  evident 
that  he  means  to  be  serious,  exhibit  the  same  flightiness  of 
language  and  notions.  The  King,  he  supposes,  would  have  no 
objection  to  “ grant  Hampton-Court,  or  some  other  palace,  for  the 
purpose  and  “ as  it  is  (he  continues,  still  addressing  the  Queen) 
to  be  immediately  under  your  majesty’s  patronage,  so  should 
your  majesty  be  the  first  member  of  it.  Let  the  constitution  of 
it  be  like  that  of  a university,  Your  Majesty,  Chancellor ; some 
of  the  first  ladies  in  the  kingdom  sub-chancellors ; whose  care  it 
shall  be  to  provide  instructors  of  real  merit.  The  classes  are  to 
be  distinguished  by  age — none  by  degree.  For,  as  their  qualifica- 
tion shall  be  gentility,  they  are  all  on  a level.  The  instructors 
shall  be  women,  except  for  the  languages.  Latin  and  Greek 
should  not  be  learned ; — the  frown  of  pedantry  destroys  the 
blush  of  humility.  The  practical  part  of  the  sciences,  as  of  as- 
tronomy, &c.,  should  be  taught.  In  history  they  would  find  that 
there  are  other  passions  in  man  than  love.  As  for  novels,  there 
are  some  I would  strongly  recommend;  but  romances  infi- 
nitely more.  The  one  is  a representation  of  the  effects  of  the 
passions  as  they  should  be,  though  extravagant ; the  other,  as  they 
are.  The  latter  is  falsely  called  nature,  and  is  a picture  of  de- 
praved and  corrupted  society ; the  other  is  the  glow  of  nature.  I 


RIGHT  HOIST.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  91 


would  therefore  exclude  all  novels  that  show  human  nature  de- 
praved : — however  well  executed,  the  design  will  disgust.” 

He  concludes  by  enumerating  the  various  good  effects  which 
the  examples  of  female  virtue,  sent  forth  from  such  an  institution, 
would  produce  upon  the  manners  and  morals  of  the  other  sex ; 
and  in  describing,  among  other  kinds  of  coxcombs,  the  cold,  courtly 
man  of  the  world,  uses  the  following  strong  figure:  “They  are 
so  clipped,  and  rubbed,  and  polished,  that  God’s  image  and  in- 
scription is  worn  from  them,  and  when  He  calls  in  his  coin.  He 
will  no  longer  know  them  for  his  own.” 

There  is  still  another  Essay,  or  rather  a small  fragment  of  an 
Essay,  on  the  letters  of  Lord  Chesterfield,  which,  I am  inclined  to 
think,  may  have  formed  a part  of  the  rough  copy  of  the  book, 
announced  by  him  to  Mr.  Linley  as  ready  in  the  November  of 
this  year.  Lord  Chesterfield’s  Letters  appeared  for  the  first  time 
in  1774,  and  the  sensation  they  produced  was  exactly  such  as 
would  tempt  a writer  in  quest  of  popular  subjects  to  avail  him- 
self of  it.  As  .the  few  pages  which  I have  found,  and  which  con- 
tain merely  scattered  hints  of  thoughts,  are  numbered  as  high  as 
232,  it  is  possible  that  the  preceding  part  of  the  work  may  have 
been  sufficiently  complete  to  go  into  the  printer’s  hands,  and  that 
there, — like  so  many  more  of  his  “unshelled  brood,” — it  died 
without  ever  taking  wing.  A few  of  these  memorandums  will,  I 
have  no  doubt,  be  acceptable  to  the  reader. 

‘‘Lord  C.^s  whole  system  in  no  one  article  calculated  to  make  a great 
man. — A noble  youth  should  be  ignorant  of  the  things  he  wishes  him  to 
know  ; — such  a one  as  he  wants  would  be  too  soon  a man. 

“ Emulation  is  a dangerous  passion  to  encourage,  in  some  points,  in 
young  men  ; it  is  so  linked  with  envy  : if  you  reproach  your  son  for  not 
surpassing  his  school-fellows,  he  will  hate  those  who  are  before  him.  Emu- 
lation not  to  be  encouraged  even  in  virtue.  True  virtue  will,  like  the  Athe- 
nian, rejoice  in  being  surpassed  ; a friendly  emulation  cannot  exist  in  two 
minds  ; one  must  hate  the  perfections  in  which  he  is  eclipsed  by  the  other  ; 
— thus,  from  hating  the  quality  in  his  competitor,  he  loses  the  respect  for 
it  in  himself : — a young  man  by  himself  better  educated  than  two. — A Jto- 
man^s  emulation  was  not  to  excel  his  countrymen,  but  to  make  his  country 
excel ; this  is  the  true,  the  other  selfish.— Epaminondas,  who  reflected  on 


92 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


the  pleasure  his  success  would  give  his  father,  most  glorious ; — an  emula- 
tion for  that  purpose,  true. 

The  selfish  vanity  of  the  father  appears  in  all  these  letters — his  sending 
the  copy  of  a letter  for  his  sister. — His  object  was  the  praise  of  his  own 
mode  of  education. — How  much  more  noble  the  affection  of  Morni  inOssian  ; 
^ Oh,  that  the  name  of  Morni,’  &c.  &c.* 

His  frequent  directions  for  constant  employment  entirely  ill  founded  : 
— a wise  man  is  forme^  more  by  the  action  of  his  own  thoughts  than  by 
continually  feeding  it.  ^ Hurry,’  he  says,  ‘ from  play  to  study  ; never  be 
doing  nothing.’ — I say,  ^ Frequently  be  unemployed  ; sit  and  think.’  There 
are  on  every  subject  but  a few  leading  and  fixed  ideas  ; their  tracks  may  be 
traced  by  your  own  genius  as  well  as  by  reading  : — a man  of  deep  thought, 
who  shall  have  accustomed  himself  to  support  or  attack  all  he  has  read, 
will  soon  find  nothing  new  : thought  is  exercise,  and  the  mind,  like  the 
body,  must  not  be  wearied.” 


These  last  two  sentences  contain  the  secret  of  Sheridan’s  con- 
fidence in  his  own  powers.  His  subsequent  success  bore  him  out 
in  the  opinions  he  thus  early  expressed,  and  might  even  have  per- 
suaded him  that  it  was  in  consequence,  not  in  spite,  of  his  want 
of  cultivation  that  he  succeeded. 

On  the  17th  of  January,  1775,  the  comedy  of  The  Rivals  was 
brought  out  at  CovenbGarden,  and  the  following  was  the  cast  of 
the  characters  on  the  first  night : — 


Sir  Anthony  Absolute 
Captain  Absolute 
Falkland  . 

Acres 

Sir  Lucius  0 ’Trigger 
Fag  . . 

David 

Coachman  . 


Mr.  Shuter. 

Mr.  Woodward. 
Mr.  Lewis. 

Mr.  Quick. 

Mr.  Lee. 

Mr.  Lee  Lewes. 
Mr.  Dunstal. 
Mr.  Fearon. 


r\%  Mrs.  Malaprop 

y*  Lydia  Languish 

' . Julia  .... 

■>  Lucy  .... 

Ihal  the  name  of  Morni  were  for<?ot 


. Mrs.  Green. 

. Miss  Barsanti. 

. Mrs.  Bulkley. 

. Mrs.  Lessing  ham. 

among  the  people  ; that  the  heroes  would 
only  say,  ‘Behold  the  father  of  Gaul !’  ” Sheridan  applied  this,  more  than  thirty  years 
after,  in  talking  of  his  own  son,  on  the  hustings  of  Westminster,  and  said  that,  in  like 
manner,  he  would  ask  no  greater  distinction  than  for  men  to  point  at  him  and  say, 
“ There  goes  the  father  of  Tom  Sheridan.’’ 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BEINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  93 

This  comedy,  as  is  well  known,  failed  on  its  first  representa- 
. tion, — chiefly  from  the  bad  acting  of  Mr.  Lee  in  Sir  Lucius 
O’Trigger.  Another  actor,  however,  Mr.  Clinch,  was  substituted 
in  his  place,  and  the  play  being  lightened  of  this  and  some  other 
incumbrances,  rose  at  once  into  that  high  region  of  public  favor, 
where  it  has  continued  to  float  so  buoyantly  and  gracefully  ever 
since. 

The  following  extracts  from  letters  written  at  that  time  by 
Miss  Linley  (afterwards  Mrs.  Tickell)  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Sher- 
idan, though  containing  nothing  remarkable,  yet,  as  warm  with 
the  feelings  of  a moment  so  interesting  in  Sheridan’s  literary 
life,  will  be  read,  perhaps,  with  some  degree  of  pleasure.  The 
slightest  outline  of  a celebrated  place,  taken  on  the  spot,  has 
often  a charm  beyond  the  most  elaborate  picture  finished  at  a 
distance. 

“My  dearest  Eliza,  Bath, 

“We  are  all  in  the  greatest  anxiety  about  Sheridan’s  play, — 
though  I do  not  think  there  is  the  least  doubt  of  its  succeeding. 

I was  told  last  night  that  it  was  his  own  story,  and  therefore  call- 
ed “ The  Rivals but  I do  not  give  any  credit  to  this  intelli- 
gence. ^ ^ ^ 

“ I am  told  he  will  get  at  least  700^.  for  his  play.” 

Bath^  January^  1775. 

“ It  is  Impossible  to  tell  you  what  pleasure  we  felt  at  the  re- 
ceipt of  Sheridan’s  last  letter,  which  confirmed  what  we  had  seen 
in  the  newspapers  of  the  success  of  his  play.  The  knowing  ones 
were  very  much  disappointed,  as  they  had  so  very  bad  an  opinion 
of  its  success.  After  the  first  night  we  were  indeed  all  very 
fearful  that  th6  audience  would  go  very  much  prejudiced  against 
it.  But  now,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  its  success,  as  it  has  cer- 
tainly got  through  more  difficulties  than  any  comedy  which  has 
not  met  its  doom  the  first  night.  I know  you  have  been  very 
busy  in  writing  for  Sheridan, — I don’t  mean  copying^  but  compos- 
ing ; — it’s  true,  indeed  ; — you  must  not  contradict  me  when  I say 
you  wrote  the  much  admired  epilogue  to  the  Rivals.  How  1 long 


94 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

to  read  it ! What  makes  it  more  certain  is,  that  my  father  guess- 
ed it  was  yours  the  first  time  he  saw  it  praised  in  the  paper.” 


This  statement  respecting  the  epilogue  would,  if  true,  deprive 
Sheridan  of  one  of  the  fairest  leaves  of  his  poetic  crown.  It  ap- 
pears, however,  to  be  but  a conjecture  hazarded  at  the  moment, 
and  proves  only  the  high  idea  entertained  of  Mrs.  Sheridan’s 
talents  by  her  own  family.  The  cast  of  the  play  at  Bath,  and  its 
success  there  and  elsewhere,  are  thus  mentioned  in  these  letters 
of  Miss  Linley : 

“ Bath,  February  18,  17T5. 

What  shall  I say  of  The  Eivals  ! — a compliment  must  na- 
turally be  expected  ; but  really  it  goes  so  far  beyond  any  thing  I 
can  say  in  its  praise,  that  I am  afraid  my  modesty  must  keep  me 
silent.  When  you  and  I meet  I shall  be  better  able  to  explain 
myself,  and  tell  you  how  much  I am  delighted  with  it.  We  *^x- 
pect  to  have  it  here  very  soon : — it  is  now  in  rehearsal.  ^ >u 
pretty  well  know  the  merits  of  our  principal  performers 1] 
show  you  how  it  is  cast. 


Sir  Anthony  ....  Mr.  Edwin. 

Captain  Absolute  . . . Mr.  Didier. 

Falkland Mr.  Dimond. 

(A  new  actor  of  great  merit,  and  a sweet  figure.) 
Sir  Lucius  ....  Mr.  Jackson. 

Acres Mr.  Keasherry. 

Fag Mr.  Brunsdon. 


Mrs.  Malaprop  . . . Mrs.  Wheeler. 

Miss  Lydia  ....  Miss  Wheeler. 

(Literally,  a very  pretty  romantic  girl,  of  seventeen.) 

Julia Mrs.  Didier 

Lucy Mrs.  Brett. 


There,  Madam,  do  not  you  think  we  shall  do  your  Rivals  some 
justice  ? I’m  convinced  it  won’t  be  done  better  any  where  out  of 
London.  I don’t  think  Mrs.  Mattocks  can  do  Julia  very  welL” 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  i)5 


“ Bath,  March  9,  1775. 

, “ You  will  know  by  what  you  see  enclosed  in  this  frank  my 
reason  for  not  answering  your  letter  sooner  was,  that  I waited 
the  success  of  Sheridan’s  play  in  Bath ; for;  let  me  tell  you,  I look 
upon  our  theatrical  tribunal,  though  not  in  quantity,^  in  quality 
as  good  as  yours,  and  I do  not  believe  there  was  a critic  in  the 
whole  city  that  was  not  there.  But,  in  my  life,  I never  saw  any 
thing  go  off  with  such  uncommon  applause.  I must  first  of  all 
inform  you  that  there  was  a very  full  house : — the  play  was  per- 
formed inimitably  well ; nor  did  I hear,  for  the  honor  of  our 
Bath  actors,  one  single  prompt  the  whole  night ; but  I suppose 
the  poor  creatures  never  acted  with  such  shouts  of  applause  in 
their  lives,  so  that  they  were  incited  by  that  to  do  their  best. 
They  lost  many  of  Malaprop’s  good  sayings  by  the  applause  : in 
short,  I never  saw  or  heard  any  thing  like  it ; — before  the  actors 
spoke,  they  began  their  clapping.  There  was  a new  scene  of  the 
N.  Parade,  painted  by  Mr.  Davis,  and  a most  delightful  one  it 
is,  I assure  you.  Every  body  says,— Bowers  in  particular, — that 
yours  in  town  is  not  so  good.  Most  of  the  dresses  were  entirely 
new,  and  very  handsome.  On  the  whole,  I think  Sheridan  is 
vastly  obliged  to  poor  dear  Keasberry  for  getting  it  up  so  well. 
We  only  wanted  a good  Julia  to  have  made  it  quite  complete. 
You  must  know  that  it  was  entirely  out  of  Mrs.  Didier’s  style 
of  playing  : but  I never  saw  better  acting  than  Keasberry ’s, — so 
all  the  critics  agreed.” 

“ Bathy  August  22c?,  1775. 

“ Tell  Sheridan  his  play  has  been  acted  at  Southampton  : — 
above  a hundred  people  were  turned  away  the  first  night.  They 
say  there  never  was  any  thing  so  universally  liked.  They  have 
very  good  success  at  Bristol,  and  have  played  The  Rivals  several 
tiities: — Miss  Barsanti,  Lydia,  and  Mrs.  Canning,  Julia.” 

To  enter  into  a regular  analysis  of  this  lively  play,  the  best 
comment  on  which  is  to  be  found  in  the  many  smiling  faces  that 
are  lighted  up  around  wherever  it  appears,  is  a task  of  criticism 
that  will  hardly  be  thought  necessary.  With  much  less  wit,  it 


96  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

exhibits  perhaps  more  humor  than  The  School  for  Scandal,  and 
the  dialogue,  though  by  no  means  so  pointed  or  sparkling,  is,  in 
this  respect,  more  natural,  as  coming  nearer  the  current  coin  of 
ordinary  conversation ; whereas,  the  circulating  medium  of  The 
School  for  Scandal  is  diamonds.  The  characters  of  The  Rivals, 
on  the  contrary,  are  not  such  as  occur  very  commonly  in  the 
world ; and,  instead  of  producing  striking  effects  with  natural  and 
obvious  materials,  which  is  the  great  art  and  difficulty  of  a 
painter  of  human  life,  he  has  here  overcharged  most  of  his  per- 
sons with  whims  and  absurdities,  for  which  the  circumstances 
they  are  engaged  in  afford  but  a very  disproportionate  vent.  Ac- 
cordingly, for  our  insight  into  their  characters,  we  are  indebted 
rather  to  their  confessions  than  their  actions.  Lydia  Languish, 
in  proclaiming  the  extravagance  of  her  own  romantic  notions, 
prepares  us  for  events  much  more  ludicrous  and  eccentric,  than 
those  in  which  the  plot  allows  her  to  be  concerned ; and  the 
young  lady  herself  is  scarcely  more  disappointed  than  we  are,  at 
the  tameness  with  which  her  amour  concludes.  Among  the  va- 
rious ingredients  supposed  to  be  mixed  up  in  the  composition  of 
Sir  Lucius  ©’Trigger,  his  love  of  fighting  is  the  only  one  whose 
flavor  is  very  strongly  brought  out ; and  the  wayward,  captious 
jealousy  of  Falkland,  though  so  highly  colored  in  his  own  repre- 
sentation of  it,  is  productive  of  no  incident  answerable  to  such 
an  announcement : — the  imposture  which  he  practises  upon  Julia 
being  perhaps  weakened  in  its  effect,  by  our  recollection  of  the 
same  device  in  the  Nut-brown  Maid  and  Peregrine  Pickle. 

The  character  of  Sir  Anthony  Absolute  is,  perhaps,  the  best 
sustained  and  most  natural  of  any,  and  the  scenes  between  him 
and  Captain  Absolute  are  richly,  genuinely  dramatic.  His  sur- 
prise  at  the  apathy  with  which  his  son  receives  the  glowing  pic- 
ture which  he  draws  of  the  charms  of  his  destined  bride,  and  the 
effect  of  the  question,  “ And  which  is  to  be  mine,  Sir, — the  niece 
or  the  aunt are  in  the  truest  style  of  humor.  Mrs.  Malaprop’s 
mistakes,  in  what  she  herself  calls  “ orthodoxy,”  have  been  often 
objected  to  as  improbable  from  a woman  in  her  rank  of  life ; but, 
though  some  of  them,  it  must  be  owned,  are  extravagant  and  far- 


HiGHT  HON.  RICHARD  jaRlNSLE-^  SHEI^IDAN.  9? 


deal,  they  are  almost  all  amusing, — and  the  luckiness  of  her  si- 
mile, “ as  headstrong  as  an  allegory  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,” 
will  be  acknowledged  as  long  as  there  are  writers  to  be  run  away 
with,  by  the  wilfulness  of  this  truly  headstrong”  species  of  com- 
position. 

Of  the  faults  of  Sheridan  both  in  his  witty  and  serious  styles 
— the  occasional  effort  of  the  one,  and  the  too  frequent  false 
finery  of  the  other — some  examples  may  be  cited  from  the  dia- 
logue of  this  play.  Among  the  former  kind  is  the  following 
elaborate  conceit : — 

Falk.  Has  Lydia  changed  her  mind  ? I should  have  thought  her  dutip 
and  inclination  would  now  have  pointed  to  the  same  object. 

Ahs.  Ay,  just  as  the  eyes  of  a person  who  squints  : when  her  love-eye 
was  fixed  on  me,  t’other — her  eye  of  duty — was  finely  obliqued  : but  when 
duty  bade  her  point  that  the  same  way,  off  turned  t’other  on  a swivel,  and 
secured  its  retreat  with  a frown.” 

This,  though  ingenious,  is  far  too  labored — and  of  that  false 
taste  by  which  sometimes,  in  his  graver  style,  he  was  seduced 
into  the  display  of  second-rate  ornament,  the  following  speeches 
of  Julia  afford  specimens  : — 

Then  on  the  bosom  of  your  wedded  Julia,  you  may  lull  your  keen  re- 
gret to  slumbering  ; while  virtuous  love,  with  a cherub’s  hand,  shall  smooth 
the  brow  of  upbraiding  thought,  and  pluck  the  thorn  from  compunction.” 

Again  : — When  hearts  deserving  happiness  would  unite  their  fortunes, 
virtue  would  crown  them  with  an  unfading  garland  of  modest  hurtless 
fiowers  : but  ill-judging  passion  will  force  the  gaudier  rose  into  the  wreath, 
whose  thorn  offends  them  when  its  leaves  are  dr  opt.” 

But,  notwithstanding  such  blemishes, — and  it  is  easy  for  the 
microscopic  eye  of  criticism  to  discover  gaps  and  inequalities  in 
the  finest  edge  of  genius,— this  play,  from  the  liveliness  of  its 
plot,  the  variety  and  whimsicality  of  its  characters,  and  the  ex- 
quisite humor  of  its  dialogue,  is  one  of  the  most  amusing  in  the 
whole  range  of  the  drama;  and  even  without  the  aid  of  its  more 
splendid  successor,  The  School  for  Scandal,  would  have  placed 
Sheridan  in  the  first  rank  of  comic  writers. 

5 


VOL.  I. 


98 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF' THE 


A copy  of  The  Rivals  has  fallen  into  my  hands,  which  once 
belonged  to  Tickell,  the  friend  and  brother-in-law  of  Sheridan, 
and  on  the  margin  of  which  I find  written  by  him  in  many  places 
his  opinion  of  particular  parts  of  the  dialogue.*  He  has  also 
prefixed  to  it,  as  coming  from  Sheridan,  the  following  humorous 
dedication,  which,  I take  for  granted,  has  never  before  met  the 
light,  and  which  the  reader  will  perceive,  by  the  allusions  in  it  to 
1 he  two  Whig  ministries,  could  not  have  been  written  before  the 
vear  1784 

“ Dedication  to  Idleness. 

“My  Dear  Friend, 

“ If  it  were  necessary  to  make  any  apology  for  this  freedom,  I 
know  you  would  think  it  a sufficient  one,  that  I shall  find  it  easier 
to  dedicate  my  play  to  you  than  to  any  other  person.  There  is 
likewise  a propriety  in  prefixing  your  name  to  a work  begun  en- 
tirely at  your  suggestion,  and  finished  under  your  auspices  ; and 
I should  think  myself  wanting  in  gratitude  to  you,  if  I did  not 
take  an  early  opportunity  of  acknowledging  the  obligations  which 
I owe  you.  There  \vas  a time — though  it  is  so  long  ago  that 
I now  scarcely  remember  it,  and  cannot  mention  it  without  com- 
punction— but  there  was  a time,  when  the  importunity  of  parents, 
and  the  example  of  a few  injudicious  young  men  of  my  acquaint- 
ance, had  almost  prevailed  on  me  to  thwart  my  genius,  and  pros- 
titute my  abilities  by  an  application  to  serious  pursuits.  And  if 
you  had  not  opened  my  eyes  to  the  absurdity  and  profligacy  of 
such  a perversion  of  the  best  gifts  of  nature,  I am  by  no  means 
clear  that  I might  not  have  been  a wealthy  merchant  or  an  emi- 
nent lawyer  at  this  very  moment.  Nor  was  it  only  on  my  first 
setting  out  in  life  that  I availed  myself  of  a connection  with  you, 

* These  opinions  are  generally  expressed  in  two  or  three  words,  and  are,  for  the  most 
part,  judicious.  Upon  Mrs.  Malaprop’s  quotation  from  Shakspeare,  “Hesperian  curls,’^ 
&c.  he  writes,  “ overdone — fitter  for  farce  than  comedy.’’  Acres’s  classification  of  oaths, 
“This  we  call  the  oath  referential,’’ ‘‘  &c.  he  pronounces  to  be  “ very  good,  but  above  the 
speaker’s  capacity.”  Of  Julia’s  speech,  “ Oh  woman,  how  true  should  be  your  judgment, 
when  your  resolution  is  so  weak  !”  he  remarks,  “ On  th''.  contrary,  it  seems  to  be  of  little 
consequence  whether  any  person’s  judgment  be  weak  o"  not,  who  wants  resolution  to  act 
according  to  it.” 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRlNSLEY  SHERIDAN.  99 

though  perhaps  I never  reaped  such  signal  advantages  from  it  as 
at  that  critical  period.  I have  frequently  since  stood  in  need  of 
your  admonitions,  and  have  always  found  you  ready  to  assist  me 
— though  you  were  frequently  brought  by  yoar  zeal  for  me  into 
new  and  awkward  situations,  and  such  as  you  were  at  first,  natu- 
rally enough,  unwilling  to  appear  in.  Amongst  innumerable  other 
instances,  I cannot  omit  two,  where  you  afforded  me  considerable 
and  unexpected  relief,  and  in  fact  converted  employments,  usu- 
ally attended  by  dry  and  disgusting  business,  into  scenes  of  per- 
’petual  merriment  and  recreation.  I allude,  as  you  will  easily 
imagine,  to  those  cheerful  hours  which  I spent  in  the  Secretary 
of  State’s  office  and  the  Treasury,  during  all  which  time  you 
were  my  inseparable  companion,  and  showed  me  such  a prefe- 
rence over  the  rest  of  my  colleagues,  as  excited  at  once  their 
envy  and  admiration.  Indeed,  it  was  very  natural  for  them  to 
repine  at  your  having  taught  me  a way  of  doing  business,  which 
it  was  impossible  for  them  to  follow — it  was  both  original  and 
inimitable. 

“If  I were  to  say  here  all  that  I think  of  your  excellencies,  1 
might  be  suspected  of  flattery ; but  I beg  leave  to  refer  you  for 
the  test  of  my  sincerity  to  the  constant  tenor  of  my  life  and 
actions ; and  shall  conclude  with  a sentiment  of  which  no  one  can 
dispute  the  truth,  nor  mistake  the  application, — that  those  per- 
sons usually  deserve  most  of  their  friends  who  expect  least  of 
them. 

“ I am,  &c.  &c.  &c., 

“ R.  B.  Sheridan.” 

The  celebrity  which  Sheridan  had  acquired,  as  the  chivalrous 
lover  of  Miss  Linley,  was  of  course  considerably  increased  by 
the  success  of  The  Rivals ; and,  gifted  as  he  and  his  beautiful 
wife  were  with  all  that  forms  the  magnetism  of  society,— the 
powder  to  attract,  and  the  disposition  to  be  attracted, — their  life, 
as  may  easily  be  supposed,  was  one  of  gaiety  both  at  home  and 
aoroad.  Though  little  able  to  cope  with  the  entertainments  of 
their  wealthy  acquaintance,  her  music  and  the  good  company 


100 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


which  his  talents  drew  around  him,  were  an  ample  repayment  for 
the  more  solid  hospitalities  which  they  received.  Among  the 
families  visited  by  them  was  that  of  Mr.  Coote  (Purden),  at 
whose  musical  parties  Mrs.  Sheridan  frequently  sung,  accompa- 
nied occasionally  by  the  two  little  daughters*  of  Mr.  Coote,  who 
were  the  originals  of  the  children  introduced  into  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds’s  portrait  of  Mrs.  Sheridan  as  St.  Cecilia.  It  was  here 
that  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire  first  met  .Sheridan ; and,  as  I 
have  been  told,  long  hesitated  as  to  the  propriety  of  inviting  to 
her  house  two  persons  of  such  equivocal  rank  in  society,  as  he 
and  his  wife  were  at  that  time  considered.  Her  Grace  was  re- 
minded of  these  scruples  some  years  after,  when  “the  player’s 
son”  had  become  the  admiration  of  the  proudest  and  fairest ; and 
when  a house,  provided  for  the  Duchess  herself  at  Bath,  was  left 
two  months  unoccupied,  in  consequence  of  the  social  attractions  of 
Sheridan,  which  prevented  a party  then  assembled  at  Chatsworth 
from  separating.  These  are  triumphs  which,  for  the  sake  of  all 
humbly  born  heirs  of  genius,  deserve  to  be  commemorated^ 

In  gratitude,  it  is  said,  to  Clinch,  the  actor,  for  the  seasonable 
reinforcement  which  he  had  brought  to  The  Rivals,  Mr.  Sheridan 
produced  this  year  a farce  called  “St.  Patrick’s  Day,  or  the 
Scheming  Lieutenant,”  which  was  acted  on  the  2d  of  May,  and 
had  considerable  success. 

Though  we  must  not  look  for  the  usual  point  of  Sheridan  in 
this  piece,  where  the  hits  of  pleasantry  are  performed  with  the 
broad  end  or  mace  of  his  wit,  there  is  yet  a quick  circulation  of 
humor  through  the  dialogue, — and  laughter,  the  great  end  of 
farce,  is  abundantly  achieved  by  it.  The  moralizing  of  Doctor 
Rosy,  and  the  dispute  between  the  justice’s  wife  and  her  daughter, 
as  to  the  respective  merits  of  militia- men  and  regulars,  are  highly 
comic : — 

* The  charm  of  her  singing,  as  well  as  her  fondness  for  children,  are  interestingly  de- 
scribed in  a letter  to  my  friend  Mr.  Rogers,  from  one  of  the  most  tasteful  writers  of  the 
present  day  : — “Hers  was  truly  ‘a  voice  as  of  the  cherub  choir, ’^and  she  was  always 
ready  to  sing  without  any  pressing.  She  sung  here  a great  deal,  and  to  my  infinite  delight ; 
but  what  had  a particular  charm  was,  that  she  used  to  take  my  daughter,  then  a child,  on 
her  lap,  and  sing  a number  of  childish  songs  with  such  a playfulness  of  manner,  and 
such  a sweetness  of  look  and  voice,  as  was  quite  enchantinff.” 


EIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  101 

“ Psha,  you  know,  Mamma,  I hate  militia  officers  ; a set  of  dunghill  cocks 
with  spurs  on — heroes  scratch’d  off  a church  door.  No,  give  me  the  bold 
upright  youth,  who  makes  love  to-day,  and  has  his  head  shot  off  to-morrow. 
Dear ! to  think  how  the  sweet  fellows  sleep  on  the  ground,  and  fight  in  silk 
stockings  and  lace  ruffles. 

Mother,  Oh  barbarous  ! to  want  a husband  that  may  wed  you  to-day 
and  be  sent  the  Lord  knows  where  before  night ; then  in  a twelve-month, 
perhaps,  to  have  him  come  like  a Colossus,  with  one  leg  at  New  York  and 
the  other  at  Chelsea  Hospital.” 

Sometimes,  too,  there  occurs  a phrase  or  sentence,  which  might 
be  sworn  to,  as  from  the  pen  of  Sheridan,  any  where.  Thus,  in 
<he  very  opening : — 

Is^  Soldier,  I say  you  are  wrong  ; we  should  all  speak  together,  each 
or  himself,  and  all  at  once,  that  we  may  be  heard  the  better. 

2d  Soldier.  Right,  Jack,  we’ll  argue  in  -platoons?'^ 

Notwithstanduig  the  great  success  of  his  first  attempts  in  the 
drama,  we  find  politics  this  year  renewing  its  claims  upon  his  at- 
tention, and  tempting  him  to  enter  into  the  lists  with  no  less  an 
antagonist  than  Dr.  Johnson.  That  eminent  man  had  just  pub- 
lished his  pamphlet  on  the  American  question,  entitled  “ Taxation 
no  Tyranny — a work  whose  pompous  sarcasms  on  the  Con- 
gress of  Philadelphia,  when  compared  with  what  has  happened 
since,  dwindle  into  puerilities,  and  show  what  straws  upon  the 
great  tide  of  events  are  even  the  mightiest  intellects  of  this  world. 
Some  notes  and  fragments,  found  among  the  papers  of  Mr.  Sher- 
idan, prove  that  he  had  it  in  contemplation  to  answer  this  pam- 
phlet ; and,  however  inferior  he  might  have  been  in  styde  to  his 
practised  adversary,  he  would  at  least  have  had  the  advantage  of 
a good  cause,  and  of  those  durable  materials  of  truth  and  jus- 
tice, which  outlive  the  mere  workmanship,  however  splendid,  of 
talent.  Such  arguments  as  the  following,  which  Johnson  did  not 
scruple  to  use,  are,  by  the  haughtiness  of  their  tone  and  thought, 
only  fit  for  the  lips  of  autocrats : — 

“ When  they  apply  to  our  compassion,  by  telling  us  that  they 
are  to  be  carried  from  their  own  country  to  be  tried  for  certain 
offences,  we  are  not  so  ready  to  pity  them,  as  to  advise  them  not 
to  offend,  While  they  are  innocent,  they  are  safe, 


102 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


“ If  they  are  condemned  unheard,  it  is  because  there  is  no  need 
of  a trial.  The  crime  is  manifest  and  notorious,”  &c.  &c. 

It  appears  from  the  fragments  of  the  projected  answer,  that 
Johnson’s  pension  was  one  of  the  points  upon  which  Mr.  Sher 
idan  intended  to  assail  him.  The  prospect  of  being  able  to 
neutralize  the  effects  of  his  zeal,  by  exposing  the  nature  of  the 
chief  incentive  from  which  it  sprung,  was  so  tempting,  perhaps, 
as  to  overrule  any  feelings  of  delicacy,  that  might  otherwise  have 
suggested  the  illiberality  of  such  an  attack.  The  following  are  a 
few  of  the  stray  hints  for  this  part  of  his  subject : — 

“ It  is  hard  when  a learned  man  thinks  himself  obliged  to  com- 
mence politician. — Sucn  pamphlets  will  be  as  trifling  and  insin- 
cere as  the  venal  quit-rent  of  a birth-day  ode."^ 

“ Dr.  J.’s  other  works,  his  learning  and  infirmities,  fully  en- 
titled him  to  such  a mark  of  distinction. — There  was  no  call  on 
him  to  become  politician. — the  easy  quit-rent  of  refined  pane- 
gyric,^ and  a few  grateful  rhymes  or  flowery  dedications  to  the 
intermediate  benefactor  ^ ^ ^ ^ 

“ The  man  of  letters  is  rarely  drawn  from  obscurity  by  the 
inquisitive  eye  of  a sovereign  : — it  is  enough  for  Royalty  to  gild 
the  laurelled  brow,  not  explore  the  garret  or  the  cellar. — In  this 
case,  the  return  will  generally  be  ungrateful — the  patron  is  most 
possibly  disgraced  or  in  opposition — if  he  (the  author)  follows  the 
dictates  of  gratitude,  he  must  speak  his  patron’s  language,  but  he 
may  lose  his  pension — but  to  be  a standing  supporter  of  minis- 
try, is  probably  to  take  advantage  of  that  competence  against  his 
benefactor. — When  it  happens  that  there  is  great  experience  and 
political  knowledge,  this  is  more  excusable ; but  it  is  truly  unfor- 
tunate where  the  fame  of  far  different  abilities  adds  weight  to 
the  attempts  of  rashness  ^ ^ * ” 

He  then  adds  this  very  striking  remark  : “ Men  seldom  think 
deeply  on  subjects  on  which  they  have  no  choice  of  opinion : — 


* On  another  scrap  of  paper  I find  “the  miserable  quit-rent  of  an  annual  pamphlet.’^ 
It  was  his  custom  in  composition  (as  will  be  seen  by  many  other  instances)  thus  to  try  the 
same  tnought  in  a variety  of  forms  and  combinationSj  in  order  to  see  in  which  it  would 
yield  iHe  greatest  produce  of  wjt. 


RIGHT  HO^.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  103 


they  are  fearful  of  encountering  obstacles  to  their  faith  (as  in  re- 
ligion), and  so  are  content  with  the  surface.” 

Dr.  Johnson  says,  in  one  part  of  his  pamphlet, — “As  all  are 
born  the  subjects  of  some  state  or  other,  we  may  be  said  to  have 
been  all  born  consenting  to  some  system  of  government.”  On  this 
Sheridan  remarks  : — “ This  is  the  most  slavish  doctrine  that  ever 
was  inculcated.  If  by  our  birth  we  give  a tacit  bond  for  our  ac- 
quiescence in  that  form  of  government  under  which  we  were  born, 
there  never  would  have  been  an  alteration  of  the  first  modes  of 
government— no  Revolution  in  England.” 

Upon  the  argument  derived  from  the  right  of  conquesc  he  ob- 
serves— “ This  is  the  worst  doctrine  that  can  be  with  respect  to 
America. — If  America  is  ours  by  conquest,  it  is  the  conquerors 
who  settled  there  that  are  to  claim  these  powers.” 

He  expresses  strong  indignation  at  the  “ arrogance”  with  which 
such  a man  as  Montesquieu  is  described  as  “ the  fanciful  Montes- 
quieu,” by  “ an  eleemosynary  politician,  who  writes  on  the  sub- 
ject merely  because  he  has  been  rewarded  for  writing  otherwise 
all  his  lifetime.” 

In  answer  to  the  argument  against  the  claims  of  the  Amer- 
icans, founded  on  the  small  proportion  of  the  population  that  is 
really  represented  even  in  England,  he  has  the  following  desul- 
tory memorandums : — “ In  fact,  every  man  in  England  is  repre- 
sented— ^every  man  can  influence  people,  so  as  to  get  a vote,  and 
even  if  in  an  election  votes  are  divided,  each  candidate  is  sup- 
posed equally  worthy — as  in  lots — fight  Ajax  or  Agamemnon.* 
— This  an  American  cannot  do  in  any  way  whatever. 

“ The  votes  in  England  are  perpetually  shifting  : — were  it  an 
object,  few  could  be  excluded. — Wherever  there  is  any  one  am- 
bitious of  assisting  the  empire,  he  need  not  put  himself  to  much 
inconvenience. — If  the  Doctor  indulged  his  studies  in  Cricklade 
or  Old  Sarurn,  he  might  vote: — the  dressing  meat,  the  simplest 
proof  of  existence,  begets  a title. — His  pamphlet  shows  that  he 
thinks  he  can  influence  some  one : not  an  anonymous  writer  in 

* He  means  to  compare  an  election  of  this  sort  to  the  casting  of  lots  between  the  Gre 
cian  t hiefs  in  the  7th  book  of  the  Iliad. 


104 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


the  paper  but  contributes  his  mite  to  the  general  tenor  of  opin 
ion. — At  the  eve  of  an  election,  his  Patriot*  was  meant  to  influ 
ence  more  than  the  single  voice  of  a rustic. — Even  the  mob,  in 
shouting,  give  votes  where  there  is  not  corruption.” 

It  is  not  to  be  regretted  that  this  pamphlet  was  left  unfinished. 
Men  of  a high  order  of  genius,  such  as  Johnson  and  Sheridan, 
should  never  enter  into  warfare  with  each  other,  but,  like  the  gods 
in  Homer,  leave  the  strife  to  inferior  spirits.  The  publication  of 
this  pamphlet  would  most  probably  have  precluded  its  author 
from  the  distinction  and  pleasure  which  he  afterwards  enjoyed  in 
the  society  and  conversation  of  the  eloquent  moralist,  who,  in  the 
following  year,  proposed  him  as  a member  of  the  Literary  Club, 
and  always  spoke  of  his  character  and  genius  with  praise.  Nor 
was  Sheridan  wanting  on  his  part  with  corresponding  tributes ; 
for,  in  a prologue  which  he  wrote  about  this  time  to  the  play  of 
Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  he  thus  alludes  to  Johnson’s  Life  of  its 
unfortunate  author 

So  pleads  the  tale,  that  gives  to  future  times 

The  son’s  misfortunes,  and  the  parent’s  crimes  ; 

There  shall  his  fame,  if  own’d  to-night,  survive  ; 

Fix’d  by  the  hand  that  bids  our  language  live.” 

*The  name  of  a short  pamphlet,  published  by  Dr.  Johnson,  on  the  dissolution  of  Par^ 
liament  in  1774. 


KiaHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  105 


CHAPTER  lY. 

THE  DUENNA.- -PURCHASE  OF  DRURY  LANE  THEATRE.- 
THE  TRIP  TO  SCARBOROUGH. — POETICAL  CORRESPON- 
DENCE WITH  MRS.  SHERIDAN. 

Mr.  Sheridan  had  now  got  into  a current  of  dramatic  fancy, 
of  whose  prosperous  flow  he  continued  to  avail  himself  actively. 
The  summer  recess  was  employed  in  writing  the  Duenna ; and 
his  father-in-law,  Mr.  Linley,  assisted  in  selecting  and  composing 
the  music  for  it.  As  every  thing  connected  with  the  progress  of 
a work,  which  is  destined  to  be  long  the  delight  of  English  ears, 
must  naturally  have  a charm  for  English  readers,  I feel  happy  at 
being  enabled  to  give,  from  letters  written  at  the  time  by  Mr. 
Sheridan  himself  to  Mr.  Linley,  some  details  relating  to  their 
joint  adaptation  of  the  music,  which,  judging  from  my  own  feel- 
ings, I cannot  doubt  will  be  interesting  to  others. 

Mr.  Linley  was  at  this  time  at  Bath,  and  the  following  letter 
to  him  is  dated  in  October,  1775,  about  a month  or  five  weeks 
before  the  opera  was  brought  out : — 

“ Dear  Sir, 

“We  received  your  songs  to-day,  with  which  we  are  exceed- 
ingly pleased.  I shall  profit  by  your  proposed  alterations ; but 
I’d  have  you  to  know  that  we  are  much  too  chaste  in  London  to 
admit  such  strains  as  your  Bath  spring  inspires.  We  dare  not 
propose  a peep  beyond  the  ankle  on  any  account ; for  the  critics 
in  the  pit  at  a new  play  are  much  greater  prudes  than  the  ladies 
in  the  boxes.  Betsey  intended  to  have  troubled  you  with  some 
music  for  correction,  and  I with  some  stanzas,  but  an  interview 
with  Harris  to-day  has  put  me  from  the  thoughts  of  it,  and  bept 
yoL.  I,  5* 


106 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


me  upon  a much  more  important  petition.  You  may  easily  sup 
pose  it  is  nothing  else  than  what  I said  I would  not  ask  in  my  last. 
But,  in  short,  unless  you  can  give  us  three  days  in  town,  I fear 
our  opera  will  stand  a chance  to  be  ruined.  Harris  is  extrava- 
gantly sanguine  of  its  success  as  to  plot  and  dialogue,  which  is  to 
be  rehearsed  next  Wednesday  at  the  theatre.  They  will  exert 
themselves  to  the  utmost  in  the  scenery,  &c.,  but  I never  saw 
any  one  so  disconcerted  as  he  w^as  at  the  idea  of  there  being  no 
one  to  put  them  in  the  right  way  as  to  music.  They  have  no  one 
there  whom  he  has  any  opinion  of — as  to  Fisher  (one  of  the  man- 
agers), he  don’t  choose  he  should  meddle  with  it.  He  entreated 
me  in  the  most  pressing  terms  to  write  instantly  to  you,  and 
wanted,  if  he  thought  it  could  be  any  weight,  to  write  himself. 
Is  it  impossible  to  contrive  this  1 couldn’t  you  leave  Tom*^  to  su- 
perintend the  concert  for.  a few  days  ? If  you  can  manage  it,  you 
will  really  do  me  the  greatest  service  in  the  world.  As  to  the 
state  of  the  music,  I want  but  three  more  airs,  but  there  are  some 
glees  and  quintets  in  the  last  act,  that  will  be  inevitably  ruined, 
if  we  have  no  one  to  set  the  performers  at  least  in  the  right  way. 
Harris  has  set  his  heart  so  much  on  my  succeeding  in  this  appli- 
cation, that  he  still  flatters  himself  we  may  have  a rehearsal  of 
the  music  in  Orchard  Street  to-morrow  se’nnight.  Every  hour’s 
delay  is  a material  injury  both  to  the  opera  and  the  theatre,  so 
that  if  you  can  come  and  relieve  us  from,  this  perplexity,  the  re- 
turn of  the  post  must  only  forerun  your  arrival ; or  (what  will 
make  us  much  happier)  might  it  not  bring  you  ? I shall  say  no- 
thing at  present  about  the  lady  ‘ with  the  soft  look  and  manner,’ 
because  I am  full  of  more  than  hopes  of  seeing  you.  For  the 

same  reason  I shall  delay  to  speak  about  G ;f  only  this  much 

I will  say,  that  I am  more  than  ever  positive  I could  make  good 
my  part  of  the  matter ; but  that  I still  remain  an  infidel  as  to 
G.’s  retiring,  or  parting  with  his  share,  though  I confess  he  seems 
to  come  closer  to  the  point  in  naming  his  price. 

“ Your  ever  sincere  and  affectionate, 

“R.  B.  Sheridan.” 


♦ Mrs.  Sheridan’s  eldest  brothw'* 


f Garrick. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  107 


On  the  opposite  leaf  of  this  letter  is  written,  in  Mrs.  S.’s  hand- 
writing,— “ Dearest  Father,  I shall  ave  no  spirits  or  hopes  of 
the  opera,  unless  we  see  you. 

“Eliza  Ann  Sheridan.” 

In  answer  to  these  pressing  demands,  Mr.  Linley,  as  appears 
by  the  following  letter,  signified  his  intention  of  being  in  town  as 
soon  as  the  music  should  be  put  in  rehearsal.  In  the  instructions 
here  given  by  the  poet  to  the  musician,  we  may  percieve  that  he 
somewhat  apprehended,  even  in  the  tasteful  hands  of  Mr.  Linley, 
that  predominance  of  harmony  over  melody,  and  of  noise  over 
both,  which  is  so  fatal  to  poetry  and  song,  in  their  perilous 
alliance  with  an  orchestra.  Indeed,  those  elephants  of  old,  that 
used  to  tread  down  the  ranks  they  were  brought  to  assist,  were 
but  a type  of  the  havoc  tliat  is  sometimes  made  both  of  melody 
and  meaning  by  the  overlaying  aid  of  accompaniments. 

“ Dear  Sir,  ^ 

“ Mr.  Harris  wishes  so  much  for  us  to  get  you  to  town,  that  I 
could  not  at  first  convince  him  that  your  proposal  of  not  coming 
till  the  music  was  in  rehearsal,  was  certainly  the  best,  as  you 
could  stay  but  so  short  a time.  The  truth  is,  that  what  you  men- 
tior  of  my  getting  a master  to  teach  the  performers  is  the  very 
pcint  where  the  nriatter  sticks,  there  being  no  such  person  as  a 
master  among  them.  Harris  is  sensible  there  ought  to  be  such 
a person  ; however,  at  present,  every  body  sings  there  according 
to  tneir  own  ideas,  or  what  chance  instruction  they  can  come  at. 
We  are,  however,  to  follow  your  plan  in  the  matter;  but  can  at 
no  rate  relinquish  the  hopes  of  seeing  you  in  eight  or  ten  days 
from  the  date  of  this ; when  the  music  (l)y  the  specimen  of  ex- 
pedition you  have  given  me)  will  be  advanced  as  far  as  you 
mention.  The  parts  are  all  writ  out  and  doubled,  &c.  as  we  go 
on,  as  I have  assistance  from  the  theatre  with  me. 

“ My  intention  was,  to  have  closed  the  first  act  with  a song, 
but  I find  it  is  not  thought  so  well.  Hence  I trust  you  with  one 
of  the  inclosed  papers;  and,  at  the  same  time,  you  must  excuse 
my  impertinence  in  adding  an  idea  of  the  cast  I would  wish  the 


108 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


music  to  have ; as  I think  I have  heard  you  say  you  never  heard 
Leoni,*  and  I cannot  briefly  explain  to  'you  the  character  and  sit- 
uation of  the  persons  on  the  stage  with  him.  The  first  (a  dia- 
logue between  Quick  and  Mrs.  Mattocksj),  I would  wdsh  to  be  a 
pert,  sprightly  air ; for,  though  some  of  the  words  mayn’t  seem 
suited  to  it,  I should  mention  that  they  are  neither  of  them  in 
earnest  in  what  they  say.  Leoni  takes  it  up  seriously,  and  I 
want  him  to  show  himself  advantageously  in  the  six  lines  begin- 
ning ‘ Gentle  maid.’  I should  tell  you,  that  he  sings  nothing  well 
but  in  a plaintive  or  pastoral  style ; and  his  voice  is  such  as  ap- 
pears to  me  always  to  be  hurt  by  much  accompaniment.  I have 
observed,  too,  that  he  never  gets  so  much  applause  as  when  he 
makes  a cadence.  Therefore  my  idea  is,  that  he  should  make  a 
flourish  at  ‘ Shall  I grieve  thee  V and  return  to  ‘ Gentle  maid,’ 
and  so  sing  that  part  of  the  tune  again.  J After  that,  the  two  last 
lines,  sung  by  the  three,  with  the  persons  only  varied,  may  get 
them  off  with  as  much  spirit  as  possible.  The  second  act  ends 
with  a slow  glee,  therefore  I should  think  the  two  last  lines  in 
question  had  better  be  brisk,  especially  as  Quick  and  Mrs.  Mat- 
tocks are  concerned  in  it- 

“ The  Other  is  a song  of  Wilson’s  in  the  third  act.  I have 
written  it  to  your  tune,  which  you  put  some  words  to,  beginning, 
‘ Prithee,  prithee,  pretty  man  !’  I think  it  will  do  vastly  w'ell 
for  the  words  : Don  Jerome  sings  them  w^hen  he  is  in  particular 
spirits ; therefore  the  tune  is  not  too  light,  though  it  might  seem 
so  by  the  last  stanza — but  he  does  not  mean  to  be  grave  there, 
and  I like  particularly  the  returning  to  ‘ O the  days  when  I was 
young!’  We  have  mislaid  the  notes,  but  Tom  remembers  it. 
If  you  don’t  like  it  for  words,  will  you  give  us  one  ? but  it  must 
go  back  to  ‘ O the  days,’  and  be  funny,  I have  not  done  trou- 
bling you  yet,  but  must  wait  till  Monday.” 

A subsequent  letter  contains  further  particulars  of  their  pra 
gress. 

♦ Leoni  played  Don  Carlos.  f Isaac  and  Donna  Louisa. 

t It  will  be  perceived,  by  a reference  to  the  music  of  the  opera,  that  Mr.  Linley  follow 
^d  Uicse  instructions  implicitly  and  successfully. 


HIGHT  HOK.  BICHARD  BBIKSLEY  SHERIDAN.  109 


“Dear  Sir, 

“ Sunday  evening  next  is  fixed  for  oui*  first  musical  rehearsal, 
and  I was  in  great  hopes  we  mjght  have  completed  the  scores 
The  songs  you  have  sent  up  of  ‘ Banna’s  Banks,’  and  ‘ Deil  take 
the  wars,’  I had  made  words  for  before  they  arrived,  which  an- 
swer excessively  well ; and  this  was  my  reason  for  wishing  for 
the  next  in  the  same  manner,  as  it  saved  so  much  time.  They 
are  to  sing  ‘Wind,  gentle  evergreen,’ just  as  you  sing  it  (only 
with  other  words),  and  I wanted  only  such  support  from  the  in- 
struments, or  such  joining  in,  as  you  should  think  would  help  to 
set  off  and  assist  the  effort.  I inclose  the  words  I had  made  for 
‘ Wind,  gentle  evergreen,’  which  will  be  sung,  as  a catch,  by 
Mrs.  Mattocks,  Dubellamy,^  and  Leoni.  I don’t  mind  the 
words  not  fitting  the  notes  so  well  as  the  original  ones.  ‘How 
merrily  we  live,’  and  ‘ Let’s  drink  and  let’s  sing,’  are  to  be  sung 
by  a company  of  friars  over  their  wine.f  The  words  will  be 
parodied,  and  the  chief  effect  I expect  from  them  must  arise  from 
their  being  known  ; for  the  joke  will  be  much  less  for  these  jolly 
fathers  to  sing  any  thing  new,  than  to  give  what  the  audience  are 
used  to  annex  the  idea  of  jollity  to.  For  the  other  things  Bet- 
sey mentioned,  I only  wish  to  have  them  with  such  accompani- 
ment as  you  would  put  to  their  present  words,  and  I shall  have 
got  words  to  my  liking  for  them  by  the  time  they  reach  me. 

“ My  immediate  wish  at  present  is  to  give  the  performers  their 
parts  in  the  music  (which  they  expect  on  Sunday  night),  and 
for  any  assistance  the  orchestra  can  give  to  help  the  effect  of 
the  glees,  &c.,  that  may  be  judged  of  and  added  at  a rehearsal, 
or,  as  you  say,  on  inquiring  how  they  have  been  done ; though 
I don’t  think  it  follows  that  what  Dr.  Arne’s  method  is  must  be 
the  best.  If  it  were  possible  for  Saturday  and  Sunday’s  post  to 
bring  us  what  we  asked  for  in  our  last  letters,  and  what  I now 
enclose,  we  should  still  go  through  it  on  Sunday,  and  the  per- 
formers should  have  their  parts  complete  by  Monday  night. 

* Don  Antonio. 

t For  these  was  afterwards  substituted  Mr.  Liniey’s  lively  glee,  “ This  bottle’s  the  sun 
of  our  table.’’ 


110 


MEMOIRS  OP  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


We  have  had  our  rehearsal  of  the  speaking  part,  and  are  to  have 
another  on  Saturday.  I want  Dr.  Harrington’s  catch,  but,  as  the 
sense  must  be  the  same,  I am  at  a loss  how  to  put  other  words^ 
Can’t  the  under  part  A smoky  house,  &c.’)  be  sung  by  one 
person  and  the  other  two  change  ? The  situation  is — Quick  and 
Dubellamy,  two  lovers,  carrying  away  Father  Paul  (Reinold) 
in  great  raptures,  to  marry  them  : — the  Friar  has  before  warned 
them  of  the  ills  of  a married  life,  and  they  break  out  into  this. 
The  catch  is  particularly  calculated  for  a stage  effect ; but  I don’t 
like  to  take  another  person’s  words,  and  I don’t  see  how  I can 
put  others,  keeping  the  same  idea  of  seven  squalling  brats, 
&c.’)  in  which  the  whole  affair  lies.  However,  I shall  be  glad  of 
the  notes,  with  Reynold’s  part,  if  it  is  possible,  as  I mentioned."^ 

“ I have  literally  and  really  not  had  time  to  write  the  words 
of  any  thing  more  first  and  then  send  them  to  you,  and  this 
obliges  me  to  use  this  apparently  awkward  way.  * 

“ My  father  was  astonishingly  well  received  on  Saturday  night 
in  Cato  ; I think,  it  will  not  be  many  days  before  we  are  recon- 
ciled. 

The  inclosed  are  the  words  for  ‘ Wind,  gentle  evergreen 
a passionate  song  for  Mattocks, j*  and  another  for  Miss  Brown,J 
which  solicit  to  be  clothed  with  melody  by  you,  and  are  all  I 
want.  Mattocks’s  I could  wish  to  be  a broken,  passionate  affair, 
and  the  first  two  lines  may  be  recitative,  or  what  you  please,  un- 
common. Miss  Brown  sings  hers  in  a joyful  mood : we  want 
her  to  show  in  it  as  much  execution  as  she  is  capable  of,  which 
is  pretty  well ; and,  for  variety,  we  want  Mr.  Simpson’s  hautboy  ^ 
to  cut  a figure,  with  replying  passages,  &c.,  in  the  way  of  Fish- 

* This  idea  was  afterwards  relinquished. 

f The  words  of  this  song,  in  composing  which  the  directions  here  given  were  exactly 
followed,  are  to  he  found  in  scarce  any  of  the  editions  of  the  Duenna.  They  are  as  fol 
lows  : — 

Sharp  is  the  woe  that  wounds  the  jealous  mind. 

When  treachery  two  fond  hearts  would  rend  : 

But  oh  1 how  keener  far  the  pang  to  find 
That  traitor  in  our  bosom  friend. 

J “ Adieu,  thou  dreary  pile.’^ 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  Ill 


er’s  ‘ M'  ami^  il  hel  idol  mio^  to  abet  which  I have  lugged  in 
‘ Echo,’  who  is  always  allowed  to  play  her  part.  I have  not  a 
moment  more.  Yours  ever  sincerely.” 

Tlie  next  and  last  extract  I shall  give  at  present  is  from  a let- 
ter, dated  Nov.  2,  1775,  about  three  weeks  before  the  first  rep- 
resentation of  the  opera. 

“ Our  music  is  now  all  finished  and  rehearsing,  but  we  are 
greatly  impatient  to  see  you.  We  hold  your  coming  to  be  neces- 
sary beyond  conception.  You  say  you  are  at  .our  service  af- 
ter Tuesday  next ; then  ^ I conjure  you  by  that  you  do  possess, 
in  which  I include  all  the  powers  that  preside  over  harmony,  to 
come  next  Thursday  night  (this  day  se’nnight),  and  we  will  fix  a 
rehearsal  for  Friday  morning.  From  what  I see  of  their  rehears- 
ing at  present,  I am  become  still  more  anxious  to  see  you. 

“We  have  received  all  your  songs,  and  are  vastly  pleased  with 
them.  You  misunderstood  me  as  to  the  hautboy  song ; I had 
not  the  least  intention  to  fix  on  ‘ Belidolmio^  However,  I think 
it  is  particularly  well  adapted,  and,  I doubt  not,  will  have  a great 
effect  ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

Ht  Ht  Ht  Ht 

An  allusion  which  occurs  in  these  letters  to  the  prospect  of  a 
reconciliation  with  his  father  gives  me  an  opportunity  of  men- 
tioning a circumstance,  connected  with  their  difference,  for  the 
knowledge  of  which  I am  indebted  to  one  of  the  persons  most 
interested  in  remembering  it,  and  which,  as  a proof  of  the  natural 
tendency  of  Sheridan’s  heart  to  let  all  its  sensibilities  flow  in  the 
right  channel,  ought  not  to  be  forgotten.  During  the  run  of  one  of 
his  pieces,  having  received  information  from  an  old  family  servant 
that  his  father  (who  still  refused  to  have  any  intercourse  with 
him)  meant  to  attend,  with  his  daughters,  at  the  representation  of 
the  piece,  Sheridan  took  up  his  station  by  one  of  the  side  scenes, 
opposite  to  the  box  where  they  sat,  and  there  continued,  unob- 
served, to  look  at  them  during  the  greater  part  of  the  night.  On  his 
return  home,  he  was  so  affected  by  the  various  recollections  that 
came  upon  him,  that  he  burst  into  tears,  and,  being  questioned  as 


112 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


to  the  cause  of  his  agitation  by  Mrs.  Sheridan,  to  whom  it  was 
new  to  see  him  returning  thus  saddened  from  the  scene  of  his 
triumph,  he  owned  how  deeply  it  had  gone  to  his  heart  “ to  think 
that  there  sat  his  father  and  his  sisters  before  him,  and  yet  that  he 
alone  was  not  permitted  to  go  near  them  or  speak  to  them.” 

On  the  21st  of  November,  1775,  The  Duenna  was  performed 
at  Covent  Garden,  and  the  following  is  the  original  cast  of  the 
characters,  as  given  in  the  collection  of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  Dramatic 
W orks  : — 


Don'Ferdinand 

Mr.  Mattocks, 

Isaac  Mendoza 

Mr,  Quick, 

Don  Jerome 

Mr.  Wilson, 

Don  Antonio 

Mr.  Duhellamy. 

Father  Paul 

Mr.  Watson. 

Lopez 

Mr.  Wewitzer. 

Don  Carlos 

Mr,  Leoni. 

Francis 

Mr  Fox, 

Lay  Brother 

Mr,  Baker, 

Donna  Louisa 

Mrs.  Mattocks 

Donna  Clara 

Mrs.  Cargill,* 

The  Duenna 

Mrs.  Green. 

The  run  of  this  opera  has,  I believe,  no  parallel  in  the  annals 
of  the  drama.  Sixty -three  nights  was  the  career  of  the  Beggar’s 
Opera  ; but  the  Duenna  was  acted  no  less  than  seventy-five  times 
during  the  season,  the  only  intermissions  being  a few  days  at 
Christmas,  and  the  Fridays  in  every  week ; — the  latter  on  ac 
count  of  Leoni,  who,  being  a Jew,  could  not  act  on  those  nights. 

In  order  to  counteract  this  great  success  of  the  rival  house, 
Garrick  found  it  necessary  to  bring  forward  all  the  weight  of  his 
own  best  characters  ; and  even  had  recourse  to  the  expedient  of 
playing  off  the  mother  against  the  son,  by  reviving  Mrs.  Frances 
Sheridan’s  comedy  of  The  Discovery,  and  acting  the  principal 
part  in  it  himself  In  allusion  to  the  increased  fatigue  which  this 
competition  with  The  Duenna  brought  upon  Garrick,  who  was 
then  entering  on  his  sixtieth  year,  it  was  said,  by  an  actor  of  the 
day,  that  “ the  old  woman  would  be  the  death  of  the  old  man.” 

* This  is  incorrect : it  was  Miss  Brown  that  played  Donna  Clara  for  the  first  few  nights. 


RIGHT  ilOH.  RICHARD . BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  118 


The  Duenna  is  one  of  the  very  few  operas  in  our  language, 
which  combine  the  merits  of  legitimate  comedy  with  the  attrac- 
tions of  poetry  and  song  ; — that  divorce  between  sense  and  sound, 
to  which  Dr.  Brown  and  others  trace  the  cessation  of  the  early 
miracles  of  music,  being  no  where  more  remarkable  than  in  the 
operas  of  the  English  stage.  The  “ Sovereign  of  the  willing 
soul”  (as  Gray  calls  Music)  always  loses  by  being  made  ex- 
clusive sovereign, — and  the  division  of  her  empire  with  poe- 
try and  wit,  as  in  the  instance  of  The  Duenna,  doubles  her  real 
power. 

The  intrigue  of  this  piece  (which  is  mainly  founded  upon  an 
incident  borrowed  from  the  “ Country  Wife”  cf  Wycherley)  is 
constructed  and  managed  with  considerable  adroitness,  having 
just  material  enough  to  be  wound  out  into  three  acts,  without 
being  encumbered  by  too  much  intricacy,  or  weakened  by  too 
much  extension.  ^ It  does  not  appear,  from  the  rough  copy  in  my 
possession,  that  any  material  change  was  made  in  the  plan  of  the 
work,  as  it  proceeded.  Carlos  was  originally  meant  to  be  a Jew, 
and  is  called  “ Cousin  Moses”  by  Isaac,  in  the  first  sketch  of  the 
dialogue ; but  possibly  from  the  consideration  that  this  would 
apply  too  personally  to  Leoni,  who  was  to  perform  the  charac- 
ter, its  designation  was  altered.  The  scene  in  the  second  act, 
where  Carlos  is  introduced  by  Isaac  to  the  Duenna,  stood,  in  its 
original  state,  as  follows  : — 

“ Isaac.  Moses,  sweet  coz,  I thrive,  I prosper.  ^ 

Moses.  Where  is  your  mistress? 

“ Isaac.  There,  you  booby,  there  she  stands. 

Moses.  Why  she^s  damn’d  ugly. 

Isaac.  Hush ! {stops  his  mouth.) 

Duenna.  IVhat  is  your  friend  saying,  Don  ? 

Isaao.  Oh,  Ma’am,  he’s  expressing  his  raptures  at  such  charms  as  he 
never  saw  before. 

^'Moses.  Ay,  such  as  I never  saw  before  indeed,  {aside.) 

“ Duenna.  You  are  very  obliging,  gentlemen  ; but,  I dare  say,  Sir,  your 
Mend  is  no  stranger  to  the  influence  of  beauty.  I doubt  not  but  he  is  a 
lover  himself. 

Moses.  Alas!  Madam,  there  is  now  but  one  woman  living,  whom  I have 
any  love  for,  and  truly.  Ma’am,  you  resemble  her  wonderfully. 


114 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


“ Duenna.  Well,  Sir,  I wish  she  may  give  you  her  hand  as  speedily  as  1 
shall  mine  to  your  friend. 

‘‘  Moses.  Me  her  hand  I — 0 Lord,  Ma’am — she  is  the  last  woman  in  the 
world  I could  think  of  marrying. 

Duenna.  What  then.  Sir,  are  you  comparing  me  to  some  wanton — some 
courtezan  ? 

Isaac.  Zounds!  he  durstn’t. 

Moses.  0 not  \ upon  my  soul. 

“ Duenna.  Yes,  he  meant  some  young  harlot — some 

Moses.  Oh,  dear  Madam,  no — it  was  my  mother  I meant,  as  I hope  to  be 
saved. 

Isaac.  Oh  the  blundering  villain ! {aside.) 

‘‘  Duenna.  How,  Sir — am  I so  like  your  mother  ? 

“ Isaac.  Stay,  dear  Madam — my  friend  meant — that  you  put  him  in  mind 
of  what  his  mother  was  when  a girl — didn’t  you,  Moses  ? 

Moses.  Oh  yes.  Madam,  my  mother  was  formerly  a great  beauty,  a 
great  toast,  I assure  you  ; — and  when  she  married  my  father  about  thirty 

years  ago,  as  you  may  perhaps  remember.  Ma’am 

Duenna.  I,  Sir  I I remember  thirty  years  ago ! 

“ Isaac.  Oh,  to  be  sure  not,  Ma’am — thirty  years  I no,  no — it  was  thirty 
months  he  said.  Ma’am — wasn’t  it,  Moses? 

“ Moses.  Yes,  yes,  Ma’am — thirty  months  ago,  on  her  marriage  with  my 
father,  she  was,  as  I was  saying,  a great  beauty  ; — but  catching  cold,  the 

year  afterwards,  in  child-bed  of  your  humble  servant 

Duenna.  Of  you,  Sir ! — and  married  within  these  thirty  months  1 
Isaac.  Oh  the  devil  I he  has  made  himself  out  but  a year  old  1 — Come, 
Moses,  hold  your  tongue. — You  must  excuse  him,  Ma’am — he  means  to  be 
civil — but  he  is  a poor,  simple  fellow — an’t  you,  Moses  ? 

Moses.  ’Tis  true,  indeed,  Ma’am,”  &C;  &c.  &c. 

The  greatef  part  of  the  humor  of  Moses  here  was  afterwards 
transferred  to  the  character  of  Isaac,  and  it  will  be  perceived  that 
a few  of  the  points  are  still  retained  by  him. 

The  wit  of  the  dialogue,  except  in  one  or  two  instances,  is  of 
that  accessible  kind  Avhich  lies  near  the  surface — which  may  be 
enjoyed  without  wonder,  and  rather  plays  than  shines.  He  had 
not  yet  searched  his  fancy  for  those  curious  fossils  of  thought 
which  make  The  School  for  Scandal  such  a rich  museum  of  wit. 
Of  this  precious  kind,  however,  is  the  description  of  Isaac’s  nem 
ti  ality  in  religion — “ like  the  blank  leaf  between  the  Old  and  New 
Testament.”  As  an  instance,  too,  of  the  occasional  abuse  of  this 


tllGHT  HON.  RiCHARi)  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  Il5 


research,  which  led  him  to  mistake  labored  conceits  for  fancies, 
may  be  mentioned  the  far-fetched  comparison  of  serenaders  to 
Egyptian  embalmers,  “ extracting  the  brain  through  the  ears.” 
For  this,  however,  his  taste,  not  his  invention,  is  responsible,  as 
we  have  already  seen  that  the  thought  was  borrowed  from  a let- 
ter of  his  friend  Halhed. 

In  the  speech  of  Lopez,  the  servant,  with  which  the  opera  opens, 
there  are,  in  the  original  copy,  some  humorous  points,  which  ap- 
pear to  have  fallen  under  the  pruning  knife,  but  which  are  not  un 
worthy  of  being  gathered  up  here : — 

A plague  on  these  haughty  damsels,  say  I ; — when  they  play  their  airs 
on  their  whining  gallants,  they  ought  to  consider  that  we  are  the  chief 
sufferers, — we  have  all  their  ill-humors  at  second-hand.  Donna  Louisa’s 
cruelty  to  my  master  usually  converts  itself  into  blows,  by  the  time  it  gets 
to  me  : — she  can  frown  me  black  and  blue  at  any  time,  and  I shall  carry 
the  marks  of  the  last  box  on  the  ear  she  gave  him  to  my  grave.  Nay,  if 
she  smiles  on  any  one  else,  I am  the  sufferer  for  it : — if  she  says  a civil 
word  to  a rival,  I am  a rogue  and  a scoundrel ; and,  if  she  sends  him  a 
letter,  my  back  is  sure  to  pay  the  postage.” 

In  the  scene  between  Ferdinand  and  Jerome  (act  ii.  scene  3) 
the  following  lively  speech  of  the  latter  was,  I know  not  why, 
left  out : — 

“ Ferdin but  he  has  never  sullied  his  honor,  which,  with  his  title, 

has  outlived  his  means. 

Jerome.  Have  they?  More  shame  for  them! — What  business  have 
honor  or  titles  to  survive,  when  property  is  extinct  ? Nobility  is  but  as  a 
helpmate  to  a good  fortune,  and,  like  a Japanese  wife,  should  perish  on  the 
funeral  pile  of  the  estate !” 

In  the  first  act,  too,  (scene  3)  where  Jerome  abuses  the  Du- 
enna, there  is  an  equally  unaccountable  omission  of  a sentence, 
in  which  he  compares  the  old  lady’s  face  to  “ parchment,  on  which 
Time  and  Deformity  have  engrossed  their  titles.” 

Though  some  of  the  poetry  of  this  opera  is  not  much  above 
that  ordinary  kind,  to  which  music  is  so  often  doomed  to  be  wed- 
ded— making  up  by  her  own  sweetness  for  the  dulness  of  her 
help-mate — ^by  far  the  greater  number  of  the  songs  are  full  of 
beauty,  and  some  of  them  may  rank  among  the  best  models  of 


116 


MEMOmS  OE  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


lyric  writing.  The  verses,  “ Had  I a heart  for  falsehood  framed,’’ 
notwithstanding  the  stiffness  of  this  word  “ framed,”  and  one  or 
two  other  slight  blemishes,  are  not  unworthy  of  living  in  recol- 
lection with  the  matchless  air  to  which  they  are  adapted. 

There  is  another  song,  less  known,  from  being  connected  with 
less  popular  music,  which,  for  deep,  impassioned  feeling  and  na- 
tural eloquence,  has  not,  perhaps,  its  rival,  through  the  whole 
range  of  lyric  poetry.  As  these  verses,  though  contained  in  the 
common  editions  of  The  Duenna,  are  not  to  be  found  in  the  opera, 
as  printed  in  the  British  Theatre,  and,  still  more  strangely,  are 
omitted  in  the  late  Collection  of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  Works,*  I 
should  feel  myself  abundantly  authorized  in  citing  them  here, 
even  if  their  beauty  were  not  a sufficient  excuse  for  recalling 
them,  under  any  circumstances,  to  the  recollection  of  the  reader : — 

“ Ah,  cruel  maid,  how  hast  thou  changed 
The  temper  of  my  mind ! 

My  heart,  by  thee  from  love  estrang’d, 

Becomes,  like  thee,  unkind. 

By  fortune  favor’d,  clear  in  fiime, 

I once  ambitious  was ; 

And  friends  I had  who  fann’d  the  flame, 

And  gave  my  youth  applause. 

But  now  my  weakness  all  accuse, 

Yet  vain  their  taunts  on  me  ; 

Friends,  fortune,  fame  itself  I’d  lose. 

To  gain  one  smile  from  thee. 

‘‘  And  only  thou  should’st  not  despise 
My  weakness  or  my  woe  ; 

If  I am  mad  in  others’  eyes, 

’Tis  thou  hast  made  me  so. 

“ But  days,  like  this,  with  doubting  curst, 

I will  not  long  endure — 

Am  I disdain’d — I know  the  worst. 

And  likewise  know  my  cure. 

♦ For  this  Edition  of  his  Works  I am  no  further  responsible  tnan  in  having  communi- 
cated to  it  a few  prefatory  pages,  to  account  and  apologize  to  the  public  for  the  delay  ol 
the  Life. 


BiGHT  HON.  EICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  117 


“ If,  false,  her  vow  she  dare  renounce, 

That  instant  ends  my  pain  ; 

For,  , oh  I the  heart  must  break  at  once. 

That  cannot  hate  again.” 

It  is  impossible  to  believe  that  such  verses  as  these  had  no 
deeper  inspiration  than  the  imaginary  loves  of  an  opera.  They 
bear,  burnt  into  every  line,  the  marks  of  personal  feeling,  and 
must  have  been  thrown  off  in  one  of  those  passionate  moods  of 
the  heart,  with  which  the  poet’s  own  youthful  love  had  made  him 
acquainted,  and  under  the  impression  or  vivid  recollection  of 
which  these  lines  were  written. 

In  comparing  this  poem  with  the  original  words  of  the  air  to 
which  it  is  adapted,  (Parnell’s  pretty  lines,  “ My  days  have  been 
so  wondrous  free,”)  it  will  be  felt,  at  once,  how  wide  is  the  differ- 
ence between  the  cold  and  graceful  effusions  of  taste,  and  the  fer- 
vid bursts  of  real  genius — between  the  delicate  product  of  the 
conservatory,  and  the  rich  child  of  the  sunshine. 

I am  the  more  confirmed  in  the  idea  that  this  song  was  written 
previously  to  the  opera,  and  from  personal  feeling,  by  finding 
among  his  earlier  pieces  the  originals  of  two  other  songs — “I 
ne’er  could  any  lustre  see,”  and  “ What  bard,  oh  Time,  discover.” 
The  thought,  upon  wnich  the  latter  turns,  is  taken  from  a poem 
already  cited,  addressed  by  him  to  Mrs.  Sheridan  in  1773  ; and 
the  following  is  the  passage  that  supplied  the  material : — 

Alas,  thou  hast  no  wings,  oh  Time, 

It  was  some  thoughtless  lover's  rhyme, 

Who,  writing  in  his  Chloe’s  view, 

Paid  her  the  compliment  through  you. 

For,  had  he,  if  he  truly  lov’d. 

But  once  the  pangs  of  absence  prov’d. 

He’d  cropt  thy  wings,  and,  in  their  stead. 

Have  painted  thee  with  heels  of  lead.” 

Jt  will  be  seen  presently,  that  this  poem  was  again  despoiled 
of  some  of  its  lines,  for  an  epilogue  which  he  began  a few  years 
after,  upon  a very  different  subject.  There  is  something,  it  must 
be  owned,  not  very  sentimental  in  this  conversion  of  the  poetry 


118 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


of  affection  to  other  and  less  sacred  uses — as  if,  like  the  ornar 
ments  of  a passing  pageant,  it  might  be  broken  up  after  the  show 
was  over,  and  applied  to  more  useful  purposes.  That  the  young 
poet  should  be  guilty  of.  such  sacrilege  to  love,  and  thus  steal 
back  his  golden  offerings  from  the  altar,  to  melt  them  down  into 
utensils  of  worldly  display,  can  only  be  excused  by  that  demand 
upon  the  riches  of  his  fancy,  which  the  rapidity  of  his  present  ca- 
reer in  the  service  of  the  dramatic  muse  occasioned. 

There  is  not  the  same  objection  to  the  approbation  of  the  other 
song,  which,  it  will  be  seen,  is  a selection  of  the  best  parts  of  the 
following  Anacreontic  verses : — 

I ne’er  could  any  lustre  see* 

In  eyes  that  would  not  look  on  me  : 

When  a glance  aversion  hints, 

I always  think  the  lady  squints. 

I ne’er  saw  nectar  on  a lip, 

But  where  my  own  did  hope  to  sip. 

No  pearly  teeth  rejoice  my  view, 

Unless  a ‘ yes’  displays  their  hue — 

The  prudish  lip,  that  noes  me  back; 

Convinces  me  the  teeth  are  black. 

To  me  the  cheek  displays  no  roses, 

Like  that  th’  assenting  blush  discloses ; 

But  when  with  proud  disdain  ’tis  spread, 

To  me  ’tis  but  a scurvy  red. 

Would  she  have  me  praise  her  hair  ? 

Let  her  place  my  garland  there. 

Is  her  hand  so  white  and  pure  ? 

I must  press  it  to  be  sure  ; 

Nor  can  I be  certain  then, 

Till  it  grateful  press  again. 

Must  I praise  her  melody  ? 

Let  her  sing  of  love  and  me. 

If  she  choose  another  theme, 

I’d  rather  hear  a peacock  scream, 

* Another  mode  of  beginning  this  song  in  the  MS.— 

“ Go  tell  the  maid  who  seeks  to  move 
My  lyre  to  praise,  my  heart  to  love, 

No  rose  upon  her  cheek  can  live, 

Like  those  assenting  blushes  give.*^ 


RIGHT  RON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  119 


Must  I,  with  attentive  eye, 

Watch  her  heaving  bosom  sigh  ? 

I will  do  so,  when  I see 
That  heaving  bosom  sigh  for  me. 

None  but  bigots  will  in  vain 
Adore  a heavm  they  cannc*:  gain. 

If  I must  religious  prove 
To  the  mighty  God  of  Love, 

Sure  I am  it  is  but  fair 

He,  at  least,  should  hear  my  prayer.  ^ 

But,  by  each  joy  of  his  I^ve  known, 

And  all  I yet  shall  make  my  own 
Never  will  I,  with  humble  speech. 

Pray  to  a heaven  I cannot  reach.” 

In  the  song,  beginning  “ Friendship  is  the  bond  of  reason/'  the 
third  verse  was  originally  thus : — 

And,  should  I cheat  the  world  and  thee. 

One  smile  from  her  I love  to  win, 

Such  breach  of  human  faith  would  be 
A sacrifice,  and  not  a sin.” 

To  the  song  Give  Isaac  the  nymph,”  there  were  at  first  two 
more  verses,  which,  merely  to  show  how  judicious  was  the  omis- 
sion of  them,  1 shall  here  transcribe.  Next  to  the  advantage  of 
knowing  what  to  put  into  our  writings,  is  that  of  knowing  what  to 
leave  out : — 

To  one  thus  accomplish’d  I durst  speak  my  mind, 

And  flattery  doubtless  would  soon  make  her  kind  ; 

For  the  man  that  should  praise  her  she  needs  must  adore. 

Who  ne’er  in  her  life  receiv’d  praises  before. 

But  the  frowns  of  a beauty  in  hopes  to  remove. 

Should  I prate  of  her  charms,  and  tell  of  my  love  ; 

No  thanks  wait  the  praise  which  she  knows  to  be  true. 

Nor  smiles  for  the  homage  she  takes  as  her  due.” 

Among  literary  piracies  or  impostures,  there  are  few  more 
audacious  than  the  Dublin  edition  of  the  Duenna, — in  which, 
though  the  songs  are  given  accurately,  an  entirely  new  dialogue 


120 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


hs  substituted  for  that  of  Sheridan,  and  his  gold,  as  in  the  barter 
of  Glaucus,  exchanged  for  such  copper  as  the  following : — 

Duen,  Well,  Sir,  I don^t  want  to  stay  in  your  house  ; but  I must  go 
and  lock  up  my  wardrobe. 

“ Isaac.  Your  wardrobe ! when  you  came  into  my  house  you  could  carry 
your  wardrobe  in  your  comb-case,  you  could,  you  old  dragon.’^ 

Another  specimen : — 

“ Isaac.  Her  voice,  too,  you  told  me,  was  like  a Virginia  Nightingale  ; 
why,  it  is  like  a cracked  warming-pan  . — and  as  for  dimples ! — to  be  sure, 
she  has  the  devibs  own  dimples. — Yes ! and  you  told  me  she  had  a lovely 
down  upon  her  chin,  like  the  down  of  a peach ; but,  damn  me  if  ever  1 
sav/  such  down  upon  any  creature  in  my  life,  except  once  upon  an  old  goat.’^ 

jokes,  I need  not  add,  are  all  the  gratuitous  contributions 
of  the  editor. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  year  1775,  it  was  understood  that  Gar- 
rick meant  to  part  with  his  moiety  of  the  patent  of  Drury  Lane 
Theatre,  and  retire  from  the  stage.  He  was  then  in  the  sixtieth 
year  of  his  age,  and  might  possibly  have-  been  influenced  by  the 
natural  feeling,  so  beautifully  expressed  for  a great  actor  of  our 
own  time,  by  our  greatest  living  writer ; 

Higher  duties  crave 

Some  space  between  the  theatre  and  the  grave  ; 

That,  like  the  Roman  in  the  Capitol, 

I may  adjust  my  mantle,  ere  I fall.”* 

The  progress  of  the  negotiation  between  him  and  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan, which  ended  in  making  the  latter  patentee  and  manager,  can- 
not better  be  traced  than  in  Sheridan’s  own  letters,  addressed  at 
the  time  to  Mr.  Linley,  and  most  kindly  placed  at  my  disposal 
by  my  friend  Mr.  William  Linley. 

“Dear  Sir,  Sunday^  Dec.  31,  1775. 

“ I was  always  one  of  the  slowest  letter- writers  m the  world, 
though  I have  had  more  excuses  than  usual  for  my  delay  in  this 

* Kemble’s  Farewell  A,ddress  on  taking  leave  o^f  lire  Edinburgh  stage,  written  by  Sir 
W^ler  S^oU. 


EIGHT  HOH.  EICHAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  121 


instance.  The  principal  matter  of  business  on  which  I was  to 
have  written  to  you,  related  to  our  embryo  negotiation  with  Gar- 
rick, of  which  I will  now  give  you  an  account. 

“ Since  you  left  town,  Mrs.  Ewart  has  been  so  ill,  as  to  continue 
near  three  weeks  at  the  point  of  death.  This,  of  course,  has  pre- 
vented Mr.  E.  from  seeing  anybody  on  business,  or  from  accom- 
panying me  to  Garrick’s.  However,  about  ten  days  ago,  I talked 
the  matter  over  with  him  by  myself,  and  the  result  was,  appoint- 
ing Thursday  evening  last  to  meet  him,  and  to  bring  Ewart,  which 
I did  accordingly.  On  the  whole  of  our  conversation  that  even- 
ing, I began  (for  the  first  time)  to  think  him  really  serious  in  the 
business.  He  still,  however,  kept  the  reserve  of  giving  the  refu- 
sal to  Colman,  though  at  the  same  time  he  did  not  hesitate  to  as- 
sert his  confidence  that  Colman  would  decline  it.  I was  deter- 
mined to  push  him  on  this  point,  (as  it  was  really  farcical  for  us 
to  treat  with  him  under  such  an  evasion,)  and  at  last  he  prom- 
ised to  put  the  question  to  Colman,  and  to  give  me  a decisive 
answer  by  the  ensuing  Sunday  (to-day).  Accordingly,  within  this 
hour,  I have  received  a note  from  him,  which  (as  I meant  to  show 
it  my  father)  I here  transcribe  for  you. 

“ ‘ Mr.  Garrick  presents  his  compliments  to  Mr,  Sheridan.^  and., 
as  he  is  obliged  to  go  into  the  country  for  three  days,  he  should  he 
glad  to  see  him  upon  his  return  to  town,  either  on  Wednesday  about 
G or  7 d clock,  or  whenever  he  pleases.  The  parly  has  no  objection 
to  the  whole,  but  chooses  no  partner  but  Mr.  G.  Not  a word  of  this 
yet.  Mr.  G,  sent  a messenger  on  purpose,  (i.  e.  to  Colman).  He 
would  call  upon  Mr.  S.,  but  he  is  confined  at  home.  Your  name 
is  upon  our  list.^ 

This  decisive  answer  may  be  taken  two  ways.  However,  as 
Mr.  G.  informed  Mr.  Ewart  and  me,  that  he  had  no  authority  or 
pretensions  to  treat  for  the  whole,  it  appears  to  me  that  Mr.  Gar- 
rick’s meaning  in  this  note  is,  that  Mr.  Colman  declines  the  pur- 
chase of  Mr.  Garrick'' s share,  which  is  the  point  in  debate,  and 
the  only  part  at  present  to  be  sold.  I shall,  therefore,  wait  on  G. 
at  the  tinie  mentioned,  and,  if  I understand  him  right,  we  shall 
certainly  witb.QMt  delay  appoint  two  men  of  business  and  the  law 

VOL.  R Q 


122 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


to  meet  on  the  matter,  and  come  to  a conclusion  without  further 
delay. 

‘‘  According  to  his  demand,  the  whole  is  valued  at  70,000Z.  He 
appears  very  shy  of  letting  his  books  be  looked  into,  as  the  test 
of  the  profits  on  this  sum,  but  says  it  must  be,  in  its  nature,  a 
purchase  on  speculation.  However,  he  has  promised  me  a rough 
estimate,  of  his  own^  of  the  entire  receipts  for  the  last  seven  years. 
But,  after  all,  it  must  certainly  be  a purchase  on  speculation^  with- 
out money’s  worth  being  made  out.  One  point  he  solemnly  avers, 
which  is,  that  he  will  never  part  with  it  under  the  price  above- 
mentioned. 

“ This  is  all  I can  say  on  the  subject  till  Wednesday,  though  I 
can’t  help  adding,  that  I think  we  might  safely  give  five  thousand 
pounds  more  on  this  purchase  than  richer  people.  The  whole 
valued  at  70,000/.,  the  annual  interest  is  3,500/.  ; while  this  is 
cleared.^  the  proprietors  are  safe.^ — but  I think  it  must  be  infernal 
management  indeed  that  does  not  double  it. 

“ I suppose  Mr.  Stanley  has  written  to  you  relative  to  your 
oratorio  orchestra.  The  demand,  I reckon,  will  be  diminished 
one  third,  and  the  appearance  remain  very  handsome,  which,  if 
the  other  affair  takes  place,  you  will  find  your  account  in  ; and,  if 
you  discontinue  your  partnership  with  Stanley  at  Drury  Lane, 
the  orchestra  may  revert  to  whichever  wants  it,  on  the  other’s 
paying  his  proportion  for  the  use  of  it  this  year.  This  is  Mr. 
Garrick’s  idea,  and,  as  he  says,  might  in  that  case  be  settled  by 
arbitration. 

“ You  have  heard  of  our  losing  Miss  Brown  ; however,  we  have 
missed  her  so  little  in  the  Duenna,  that  the  managers  have  not 
tried  to  regain  her,  which  I believe  they  might  have  done.  I have 
had  some  books  of  the  music  these  many  days  to  send  you  down. 
I wanted  to  put  Tom’s  name  in  the  new  music,  and  begged  Mrs. 
L.  to  ask  you,  and  let  me  have  a line  on  hel*  arrival,  for  which 
purpose  I kept  back  the  index  of  the  songs.  If  you  or  he  have 
no  objection,  pray  let  me  know  I’ll  send  the  music  to-morrow. 

“ I am  finishing  a two  act  comedy  for  Covent-Garden,  which 
will  be  in  rehearsal  in  a week.  W e have  given  the  Duenna  a 


IvIGHT  HON.  HICHAKD  BKINSLFY  SHERIDAN.  123 

respite  this  Christmas,  but  nothing  else  at  present  brings  money. 
We  have  every  place  in  the  house  taken  for  the  three  next  nights, 
and  shall,  at  least,  play  it  fifty  nights,  with  only  the  Friday’s  in 
termission. 

“ My  best  love  and  the  compliments  of  the  season  to  all  your 
fire-side. 

‘‘Your  grandson  is  a very  magnificent  fellow."^ 

“Yours  ever  sincerely, 

“ R.  B.  Sheridan.’’ 

“Dear  Sir,  January  4:^  1776. 

“ I left  Garrick  last  night  too  late  to  write  to  you.  He  has 
offered  Colman  the  refusal,  and  showed  me  his  answer ; which 
was  (as  in  the  note)  that  he  was  willing  to  purchase  the  whole, 
but  would  have  no  partner  but  Garrick.  On  this,  Mr.  Garrick 
appointed  a meeting  with  his  partner,  young  Leasy,  and,  in  pre- 
sence of  their  solicitor,  treasurer,  &c.,  declared  to  him  that  he 
was  absolutely  on  the  point  settling,  and,  if  he  was  willing,  he 
might  have  the  same  price  for  his  share ; but  that  if  he  (Leasy) 
would  not  sell,  Mr.  Garrick  would,  instantly,  to  another  party. 
The  result  was,  Leasy’s  declaring  his  intention  of  not  parting 
with  his  share.  Of  this  Garrick  again  informed  Colman,  who 
immediately  gave  up  the  whole  matter. 

“ Garrick  was  extremely  explicit,  and,  in  short,  we  came  to  a 
final  resolution.  So  that,  if  the  necessary  matters  are  made  out 
to  all  our  satisfactions,  we  may  sign  and  seal  a previous  agree- 
ment within  a fortnight. 

“ I meet  him  again  to-morrow  evening,  when  we  are  to  name 
a day  for  a conveyancer  on  our  side,  to  meet  his  solicitor,  Wal 
lace.  I have  pitched  on  a Mr.  Phips,  at  the  recommendation 
and  by  the  advice  of  Dr.  Ford.  The  three  first  steps  to  be  ta- 
ken are  these, — our  lawyer  is  to  look  into  the  titles,  tenures,  <fec 
of  the  house  and  adjoining  estate,  the  extent  and  limitations  of 
the  patent,  &c.  We  should  then  employ  a builder  (I  think,  Mr. 
Collins,)  to  survey  the  state  and  repair  in  which  the  whole  pre* 


♦ Sheridan’s  first  child,  Tliomas,  born  in  the  preceding  year 


124 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


mises  are,  to  which  G.  entirely  assents.  Mr.  G.  will  then  give 
us  a fair  and  attested  estimate  from  his  books  of  what  the  profits 
have  been,  at  an  average,  for  these  last  seven  years.*  lliis  he 
has  shown  me  in  rough,  and  valuing  the  property  at  70,000/.,  the 
interest  has  exceeded  ten  per  cent. 

“We  should,  after  this,  certainly  make  an  inter  e^  to  get  the 
King’s  promise,  that,  while  the  theatre  is  well  conducted,  &ic.  he 
will  grant  no  patent  to  a third, — though  G.  seems  confident  that 
he  never  wdll.  If  there  is  any  truth  in  professions  and  appear- 
ances, G.  seems  likely  always  to  continue  our  friend,  and  to  give 
every  assistance  in  his  power. 

“ The  method  of  our  sharing  the  purchase,  I should  think,  may 
be  thus, — Ewart,  to  take  10,000/.,  you  10,000/.,  and  I,  10,000/. 
— Dr.  Ford  agrees,  with  the  greatest  pleasure,  to  embark  the 
other  five ; and  if  you  do  not  choose  to  venture  so  much,  will,  I 
dare  say,  share  it  with  you.  Ewart  is  preparing  his  money,  and 
I have  a certainty  of  my  part.  We  shall  have  a very  useful 
ally  in  Dr.  Ford ; and  my  father  offers  his  services  on  our  own 
terms.  W e cannot  unite  Garrick  to  our  interests  too  firmly ; 
and  I am  convinced  his  influence  will  bring  Leasy  to  our  terms, 
if  he  should  be  ill-advised  enough  to  desire  to  interfere  in  what 
he  is  totally  unqualified  for. 

“ I’ll  write  to  you  to-morrow  relative  to  Leasy’s  mortgage' 
(which  Garrick  has,  and  advises  us  to  take),  and  many  other  par- 
ticulars. When  matters  are  in  a certain  train  (which  I hope  will 
be  in  a week,)  I suppose  you  will  not  hesitate  to  come  to  town 
for  a day  or  two.  Garrick  proposes,  when  we  are  satisfied  with 
the  bargain,  to  sign  a previous  article,  with  a penalty  of  ten 
thousand  pounds  on  the  parties  who  break  from  fulfilling  the 
purchase.  When  we  are  once  satisfied  and  determined  in  the 
business  (which,  I own,  is  my  case),  the  sooner  that  is  done  the 
better.  I must  urge  it  particularly,  as  my  confidential  connec- 
tion with  the  other  house  is  peculiarly  distressing,  till  I can  with 
prudence  reveal  my  situation,  and  such  a treaty  (however  pru- 

* These  accounts  were  found  among  Mr.  Sheridan’s  papers.  Garrick’s  income  from  the 
HieaUe  for  the  year  1775-6  is  thus  stated  :-r-“  Author  400?.,  salary,  800L,  manager  5Q0L”^ 


iilGHi'  HON.  KldllARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  l25 

dently  managed)  cannot  long  be  kept  secret,  especially  as  Leasy 
is  now  convinced  of  Garrick’s  resolution. 

“ I am  exceedingly  hurried  at  present,  so,  excuse  omissions, 
and  do  not  flag  when  we  come  to  the  point.  I’ll  answer  for  it, 
we  shall  see  many  golden  campaigns. 

“ Yours  ever, 

“ R.  B.  Sheridan. 

“You  have  heard,  I suppose,  that  Foote  is  likely  never  to 
show  his  face  again.” 

“Dear  Sir,  January  315^,  1776. 

“ I am  glad  you  have  found  a person  who  will  let  you  have 
the  money  at  four  per  cent.  The  security  will  be  very  clear; 
but,  as  there  is  some  degree  of  risk,  as  in  case  of  fire,  I think 
four  per  cent,  uncommonly  reasonable. — It  will  scarcely  be  any 
advantage  to  pay  it  off,  for  your  houses  and  chapel,  I suppose, 
bring  in  much  more.  Therefore,  while  you  can  raise  money  at 
four  per  cent,  on  the  security  of  your  theatrical  share  only^  you 
will  be  right  to  alter,  as  little  as  you  can,  the  present  disposition 
of  your  property. 

“ As  to  your  quitting  Bath,  I cannot  see  why  you  should  doubt 
a moment  about  it.  Surely,  the  undertaking  in  which  you  em- 
bark such  a sum  as  10,000/.  ought  to  be  the  chief  object  of  your 
attention — and,  supposing  you  did  not  choose  to  give  up  all  your 
time  to  the  theatre,  you  may  certainly  employ  yourself  more 
profitably  in  London  than  in  Bath.  But,  if  you  are  willing  (as 
I suppose  you  will  be)  to  make  the  theatre  the  great  object  of 
your  attention,  rely  on  it  you  may  lay  aside  every  doubt  of  not 
finding  your  account  in  it ; for  the  fact  is,  we  shall  have  nothing 
but  our  own  equity  to  consult  in  making  and  obtaining  any  de- 
mand for  exclusive  trouble.  Leasy  is  utterly  unequal  to  any 
department  in  the  theatre.  He  has  an  opinion  of  me,  and  is 
very  willing  to  let  the  whole  burthen  and  ostensibility  be  taken 
off  his  shoulders.  But  I certainly  should  not  give  up  my  time 
and  labor  (for  his  superior  advantage,  having  so  much  greater 
a share)  without  some  exclusive  advantage.  Yet,  I should  by 


126  Memoirs  op  the  life  op  the 

no  means  make  the  demand  till  I had  shown  myself  equal  to  the 
task.  My  father  purposes  to  he  with  us  but  one  year  ; and  that 
only  to  give  me  what  advantage  he  can  from  his  experience. 
He  certainly  must  be  paid  for  his  trouble^  and  so  certainly  must 
you.  You  have  experience  and  character  equal  to  the  line  you 
would  undertake ; and  it  never  can  enter  into  any  body’s  head 
that  you  were  to  give  your  time  or  any  part  of 'your  attention 
gratis,  because  you  had  a share  in  the  theatre.  I have  spoke  on 
this  subject  both  to  Garrick  and  Leasy,  and  you  will  find  no  de- 
mur on  any  side  to  your  gaining  a certain  income  from  the  thea- 
tre— greater,  I think,  than  you  could  make  out  of  it — and  in  this 
the  theatre  will  be  acting  only  for  its  own  advantage.  At  the 
same  time  you  may  always  make  leisure  for  a few  select  schol- 
ars, whose  interest  may  also  serve  the  greater  cause  of  your  pa- 
tentee-ship. 

I have  had  a young  man  with  me  who  wants  to  appear  as  a 
singer  in  plays  or  oratorios.  I think  you’ll  find  him  likely  to  be 
serviceable  in  either.  He  is  not  one-and-twenty,  and  has  no 
conceit.  He  has  a good  tenor  voice — very  good  ear  and  a 
great  deal  of  execution,  of  the  right  kind.  He  reads  notes  very 
quick,  and  can  accompany  himself  This  is  Betsey’s  verdict, 
who  sat  in  judgment  on  him  on  Sunday  last.  I have  given  him 
no  answer,  but  engaged  him  to  wait  till  you  come  to  town. 

“ You  must  not  regard  the  reports  in  the  paper  about  a third 
theatre — that’s  all  nonsense. 

‘‘  Betsey’s  and  my  love  to  all.  Your  grandson  astonishes 
every  body  by  his  vivacity,  his  talents  for  music  and  poetry,  and 
the  most  perfect  integrity  of  mind. 

“Yours  most  sincerely, 

“ R.  B.  Sheridan.” 

In  the  following  June  the  contract  with  Garrick  was  perfected  ; 
and  in  a paper  drawn  up  by  Mr.  Sheridan  many  years  after,  I 
find  the  shares  of  the  respective  purchasers  thus  stated  : — 

Mr.  Sheridan,  two  fourteenths  of  the  whole  . 10,000Z. 

Mr.  Linley,  ditto  . . . . . ^ OOOL 

Dr.  Ford,  3 ditto  15,UiAy>. 


KIGHT  HOJSr.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  127 


Mr.  Ewart,  it  will  be  perceived,  though  criginally  mentioned 
as  one  of  the  parties,  had  no  concern  in  the  final  arrangement. 

Though  the  letters,  just  cited,  furnish  a more  detailed  account 
than  has  yet  been  given  to  the  public  of  this  transaction  by  which 
Mr.  Sheridan  became  possessed  of  his  theatrical  property,  they 
still  leave  us  in  the  dark  with  respect  to  the  source  from  which 
his  own  means  of  completing  the  purchase  were  derived.  Not 
even  to  Mr.  Linley,  while  entering  into  all  other  details,  does  he 
hint  at  the  fountain  head  from  which  this  supply  is  come : — 

“ gentes  maluit  ortus 

Mirari,  quam  nosse  tuos.^^ 

There  was,  indeed,  something  mysterious  and  miraculous  about 
all  his  acquisitions,  whether  in  love,  in  learning,  in  wit,  or  in 
wealth.  How  or  when  his  stock  of  knowledge  was  laid  in,  no- 
body knew — it  was  as  much  a matter  of  marvel  to  those  who 
never  saw  him  read,  as  the  existence  of  the  chameleon  has  been 
to  those  who  fancied  it  never  eat.  His  advances  in  the  heart  of 
his  mistress  were,  as  we  have  seen,  equally  trackless  and  inau- 
dible, and  his  triumph  was  the  first  that  even  rivals  knew  of  his 
love.  In  like  manner,  the  productions  of  his  wit  took  the  world 
by  surprise, — being  perfected  in  secret,  till  ready  for  display,  and 
then  seeming  to  break  from  under  the  cloud  of  his  indolence  in 
full  maturity  of  splendor.  His  financial  resources  had  no  less  an 
air  of  magic  about  them  ; and  the  mode  by  which  he  conjured  up, 
at  this  time,  the  money  for  his  first  purchase  into  the  theatre,  re- 
mains, as  far  as  I can  learn,  still  a mystery.  It  has  been  said 
that  Mr.  Garrick  supplied  him  with  the  means — but  a perusal  of 
the  above  letters  must  set  that  notion  to  rest.  There  was  evi- 
dently, at  this  time,  no  such  confidential  understanding  between 
them  as  an  act  of  friendship  of  so  signal  a nature  would  imply  ; 
and  it  appears  that  Sheridan  had  the  purchase  money  ready,  even 
before  the  terms  upon  which  Garrick  would  sell  were  ascertained. 
That  Doctor  Ford  should  have  advanced  tlie  money  is  not  less 
improbable ; for  the  share  of  which,  contrary  to  his  first  inten- 
tion, he  ultimately  became  proprietor,  absorbed,  there  is  every 


128 


MEMOIRS  OF  TilE  LIFE  OF  TEtF 


reason  to  think,  the  whole  of  his  disposable  means.  He  was  af- 
terwards a sufferer  by  the  concern  to  such  an  extent,  as  to  be 
obliged,  in  consequence  of  his  embarrassments,  to  absent  himself 
for  a considerable  time  from  England  ; and  there  are  among  the 
papers  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  several  letters  of  remonstrance  addressed 
to  him  by  the  son  of  Dr.  Ford,  in  which  some  allusion  to  such  a 
friendly  service,  had  it  ever  occurred,  would  hardly  have  been 
omitted. 

About  the  end  of  this  year  some  dissensions  arose  between  the 
nev/  patentees  and  Mr.  Lacy,  in  consequence  of  the  expressed  in^ 
tention  of  the  latter  to  introduce  two  other  partners  into  the  es 
tablishment,  by  the  disposal  of  his  share  to  Captain  Thomson  and 
a Mr.  Langford.  By  an  account  of  this  transaction,  which  ap- 
pears in  a Periodical  Paper  published  at  the  time,^  and  which, 
from  its  correctness  in  other  particulars,  I rather  think  may  be 
depended  on,  it  would  seem  that  Sheridan,  in  his  opposition  to 
Lacy,  had  proceeded  to  the  extremity  of  seceding  from  his  own 
duties  at  the  theatre,  and  inducing  the  principal  actors  to  adopt 
the  same  line  of  conduct. 

‘‘  Does  not  the  rage  (asks  this  writer)  of  the  new  managers,  all  directed 
against  the  innocent  and  justifiable  conduct  of  Mr.  Lacy,  look  as  if  they 
meant  to  rule  a theatre,  of  which  they  have  only  a moiety  among  them, 
and  feared  the  additional  weight  and  influence  which  would  be  given  to 
Mr.  Lacy  by  the  assistance  of  Captain  Thomson  and  Mr.  Langford  ? If 
their  intentions  were  right,  why  should  they  fear  to  have  their  power  bal- 
anced, and  their  conduct  examined  ? Is  there  a precedent  in  the  annals  of 
the  theatre,  where  the  acting  manager  deserted  the  general  property,  left 
the  house,  and  seduced  the  actors  from  their  duties — why  ? forsooth,  because 
he  was  angry.  Is  not  such  conduct  actionable  ? In  any  concern  of  com- 
mon property.  Lord  Mansfield  would  make  it  so.  And,  what  an  insult  to 
the  public,  from  whose  indulgence  and  favor  this  conceited  young  man, 
with  his  wife  and  family,  are  to  receive  their  daily  bread ! Because  Mr. 
Lacy,  in  his  opinion,  had  used  him  ill — his  patrons  and  benefactors  might 
go  to  the  devil ! Mr.  Lacy  acted  with  great  temper  and  moderation ; 
and,  in  order  that  the  public  might  not  be  wholly  disappointed,  he  brought 
on  old  stock-plays — his  brother  manager  having  robbed  him  of  the  means 
and  instruments  to  do  otherwise,  by  taking  away  the  performers.’^ 


♦ The  Selector. 


WGHT  HON.  RiCHAUD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  129 


It  is  also  intimated  in  the  same  publication  that  Mr.  Garrick 
had  on  this  occasion  ‘‘  given  Mr.  Sheridan^^credit  on  his  banker 
for  20,000Z.  for  law  expenses  or  for  the  purchase  of  Messrs. 
Langford  and  Thomson’s  shares.” 

The  dispute,  however,  was  adjusted  amicably.  Mr.  Lacy  w^as 
prevailed  upon  to  write  an  apology  to  the  public,  and  the  design 
of  disposing  of  his  share  in  the  theatre  was,  for  the  present,  relin- 
quished. 

There  is  an  allusion  to  this  reconciliation  in  the  following  char- 
acteristic letter,  addressed  by  Sheridan  to  Mr.  Linley  inthe  spring 
of  the  following  year. 

“Dear  Sir, 

“ You  write  to  me  though  you  tell  me  you  have  nothing  to 
say — now,  I have  reversed  the  case,  and  have  not  wrote  to  you, 
because  I have  had  so  much  to  say.  However,  I find  I have  de- 
layed too  long  to  attempt  now  to  transmit  you  a long  detail  of 
our  theatrical  manoeuvres ; but  you  must  not  attribute  my  not 
writing  to  idleness,  but  on  the  contrary  to  my  not  having  been 
idle. 

“ You  represent  your  situation  of  mind  between  hopes  and  fears, 
I am  afraid  I should  argue  in  vain  (as  I have  often  on  this  point 
before)  were  I to  tell  you,  that  it  is  always  better  to  encourage 
the  former  than  the  latter.  It  may  be  very  prudent  to  mix  a 
little  fear  by  way  of  alloy  with  a good  solid  mass  of  hope  ; but 
you,  on  the  contrary,  always  deal  in  apprehension  by  the  pound, 
and  take  confidence  by  the  grain,  and  spread  as  thin  as  leaf  gold. 
In  fact,  thouiih  a metaphor  mayn’t  explain  it,  the  truth  is,  that,  in 
all  undertakings  which  depend  principally  on  ourselves,  the  surest 
way  not  to  fail  is  to  determine  to  succeed, 

“ It  would  be  endless  to  say  more  at  present  about  theatrical 
matters,  only,  that  every  thing  is  going  on  very  well.  Lacy 
promised  me  to  write  to  you,  which  I suppose,  however,  he  has 
not  done.  At  our  first  meeting  after  you  left  town,  he  cleared 
away  all  my  doubts  about  his  sincerity ; and  I dare  swear  we 
shall  never  have  the  least  misunderstanding  again,  nor  do  I be- 
VOL.  I.  6* 


iSO  MEMoIRS  of  tHE  life  of  the 

lieve  he  v;ill  ever  take  any  distinct  counsel  in  future.  Relative  to 
your  affair  he  has  not  the  shade  of  an  objection  remaining,  and  is 
only  anxious  that  you  may  not  take  amiss  his  boggling  at  first, 
W e have,  by  and  with  the  advice  of  the  privy  council,  concluded 
to  have  Noverre  over,  and  there  is  a species  of  pantomime  to  be 
shortly  put  on  foot,  which  is  to  draw  all  the  human  kind  to  Dru- 
ry.* This  is  become  absolutely  necessary  on  account  of  a mar- 
vellous preparation  of  the  kind  which  is  making  at  Co  vent  Gar- 
den. 

“Touching  the  tragedies  you  mention,  if  you  speak  of  them 
merely  as  certain  tragedies  that  may  be  had,  I should  think  it 
impossible  we  could  find  the  least  room,  as  you  know  Garrick 
saddles  us  with  one  which  we  must  bring  out.  But,  if  you  have 
any  particular  desire  that  one  of  them  should  be  done,  it  is 
another  affair,  and  I should  be  glad  to  see  them.  Otherwise,  I 
would  much  rather  you  would  save  the  disagreeableness  of  giving 
my  opinion  to  a fresh  tragic  bard,  being  already  in  disgrace  with 
about  nine  of  that  irascible  fraternity. 

“ Betsey  has  been  alarmed  about  Tom,  but  without  reason.  He 
is  in  my  opinion  better  than  when  you  left  him,  at  least  to  ap- 
pearance, and  the  cold  he  caught  is  gone.  W e sent  to  see  him 
at  Battersea,  and  would  have  persuaded  him  to  remove  to  Orchard 
Street ; but  he  thinks  the  air  does  him  good,  and  he  seems  with 
people  where  he  is  at  home,  and  may  divert  himself,  which,  per- 
haps, will  do  him  more  good  than  the  air, — but  he  is  to  be  with 
us  soon. 

“ Ormsby  has  sent  me  a silver  branch  on  the  score  of  the 
Duenna.  This  will  cost  me,  v/hat  of  al]  things  I am  least  free 
of,  a letter : and  it  should  have  been  a poetical  one,  too,  if  the 
present  had  been  any  piece  of  plate  but  a.  candlestick  ! — I believe 
I must  melt  it  into  a bowl  to  make  verses  on  it,  for  there  is  no 
possibility  of  bringing  candle,  candlestick,  or  snuffers,  into  metre. 
However,  as  the  gift  was  owing  to  the  muse,  and  the  manner  of 
it  very  friendly,  I believe  I shall  try  to  jingle  a little  on  the 

♦ I find  that  the  pantomime  al  Drury  Lane  this  year  was  a revival  of  “ Harlequin's 
Invasion/’  and  that  at  Covent  Garden,  “ Harlequin’s  Frolics.” 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  13 1 

occasion ; at  least,  a few  such  stanzas  as  might  gain  a cup  of 
tea  from  the  urn  at  Bath-Easton. 

“ Betsey  is  very  well,  and  on  the  point  of  giving  Tom  up  to 
feed  like  a Christian  and  a gentleman,  or,  in  other  words,  of 
weaning,  warning,  or  weening  him.  As  for  the  young  gentleman 
himself,  his  progress  is  so  rapid,  that  one  may  plainly  see  the 
astonishment  the  sun  is  in  of  a morning,  at  the  improvement  of 
the  night.  Our  loves  to  all. 

“Yours  ever,  and  truly, 

“ R.  B.  Sheridan.” 

The  first  contribution  which  the  dramatic  talent  of  the  new 
manager  furnished  to  the  stock  of  the  theatre,  was  an  alteration 
of  Vanbrugh’s  comedy.  The  Relapse,  which  was  brought  out 
on  the  24th  of  February , 1777,  under  the  title  of  “ A Trip  to 
Scarborough.” 

In  reading  the  original  play,  we  are  struck  with  surprise,  that 
Sheridan  should  ever  have  hoped  to  be  able  to  defecate  such  dia- 
logue, and  yet  leave  any  of  the  wit,  whose  whole  spirit  is  in  the 
lees,  behind.  The  very  life  of  such  characters  as  Berinthia  is 
their  licentiousness,  and  it  is  with  them,  as  with  objects  that  are 
luminous  from  putrescence, — to  remove  their  taint  is  to  extin- 
guish their  light.  If  Sheridan,  indeed,  had  substituted  some  of 
his  own  wit  for  that  which  he  took  away,  the  inanition  that  fol 
lowed  the  operation  would  have  been  much  less  sensibly  felt. 
But  to  be  so  liberal  of  a treasure  so  precious,  and  for  the  enrich- 
ment of  the  work  of  another,  could  hardly  have  been  expected 
fi'om  him.  Besides,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  subject  had 
not  already  yielded  its  utmost  to  Vanbrugh,  and  whether  even  in 
the  hands  of  Sheridan,  it  could  have  been  brought^  to  bear  a 
second  crop  of  wit.  Here  and  there  through  the  dialogue,  there 
are  some  touches  from  his  pen — more,  however,  in  the  style  of 
his  farce  than  his  comedy.  For  instance,  that  speech  of  Lord 
Foppington,  where,  directing  the  hosier  not  “to  thicken  the 
calves  of  his  stockings  so  much,”  he  says,  “ You  should  always 
remember,  Mr.  Hosier,  that  it  you  make  a nobleman’s  spring 


1S2 


MEMOIRS  OF  tHE  LIFE  OF  THE 


legs  as  robust  as  his  autumnal  calves,  you  commit  a monstrous 
impropriety,  and  make  no  allowance  for  the  fatigues  of  the  win 
ter.”  Again,  the  following  dialogue  : — 

Jeweller,  I hope,  my  lord,  those  buckles  have  had  the  unspeakable 
satisfaction  of  being  honored  with  your  lordship’s  approbation  ? 

‘‘  Lord  F.  Why,  they  are  of  a pretty  fancy  ; but  don’t  you  think  them 
rather  of  the  smallest  ? 

‘‘  Jeweller.  My  lord,  they  could  not  well  be  larger,  to  keep  on  your  lord- 
ship’s shoe. 

Lord  F.  My  good  sir,  you  forget  that  these  matters  are  not  as  they 
used  to  be  : formerly,  indeed,  the  buckle  was  a sort  of  machine,  intended 
to  keep  on  the  shoe  ; but  the  case  is  now  quite  reversed,  and  the  shoe  is  of 
no  earthly  use  but  to  keep  on  the  buckle.” 

About  this  time  Mrs.  Sheridan  went  to  pass  a few  weeks  with 
her  father  and  mother  at  Bath,  while  Sheridan  himself  remained 
in  town,  to  superintend  the  concerns  of  the  theatre.  During  this 
interval  he  addressed  to  her  the  following  verses,  which  I quote, 
less  from  their  own  peculiar  merit,  than  as  a proof  how  little  his 
heart  had  yet  lost  of  those  first  feelings  of  love  and  gallantry 
which  too  often  expire  in  matrimony,  as  Faith  and  Hope  do  in 
heaven,  and  from  the  same  causes — 

“ Oue  lost  in  certainty,  and  one  in  joy.” 

TO  LAURA. 

“ Near  Avon’s  ridgy  bank  there  grows 
A willow  of  no  vulgar  size. 

That  tree  first  heard  poor  Silvio’s  woes. 

And  heard  how  bright  were  Laura’s  eyes. 

Its  boughs  were  shade  from  heat  or  show’r, 

Its  roots  a moss-grown  seat  became  ; 

Its  leaves  would  strew  the  maiden’s  bow’r, 

« Its  bark  was  shatter’d  with  her  name  ! 

Once  on  a blossom-crowned  day 
Of  mirth-inspiring  May, 

Silvio,  beneath  this  willow’s  sober  shade, 

In  sullen  contemplation  laid, 


BIGHT  HON.  EICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  133 


Did  mock  the  meadow’s  flowery  pride, — 

Rail’d  at  the  dance  and  sportive  ring ; — 

The  tabor’s  call  he  did  deride, 

And  said,  it  was  not  Spring. 

He  scorn’d  the  sky  of  azure  blue. 

He  scorn’d  whate’er  could  mirth  bespeak ; 

He  chid  the  beam  that  drank  the  dew. 

And  chid  tlie  gale  that  fann’d  his  glowing  cheek. 
Unpaid  the  season’s  wanton  lay. 

For  still  he  sigh’d,  and  said,  it  was  not  Mat^ 

Ah,  why  should  the  glittering  stream 
Reflect  thus  delusive  the  scene  ? 

Ah,  why  does  a rosy-ting’d  beam 
Thus  vainly  enamel  the  green  ? 

To  me  nor  joy  nor  light  they  bring : 

I tell  thee,  Phoebus,  His  not  Spring. 

“ Sweet  tut’ress  of  music  and  love. 

Sweet  bird,  if  ’tis  thee  that  I hear, 

Why  left  you  so  early  the  grove. 

To  lavish  your  melody  here  ? 

Cease,  then,  mistaken  thus  to  sing. 

Sweet  nightingale ! it  is  not  Spring. 

The  gale  courts  my  locks  but  to  tease, 

And,  Zephyr,  I call  not  on  thee  ; 

Thy  fragrance  no  longer  can  please, 

Then  rob  not  the  blossoms  for  me  ; 

But  hence  unload  thy  balmy  wing. 

Believe  me.  Zephyr,  ’tis  not  Spring. 

' Yet  the  lily  has  drank  of  the  show’r, 
xind  the  rose  ’gins  to  peep  on  the  day ; 

And  yon  bee  seems  to  search  for  a flow’r, 

As  busy  as  if  it  were  May  : — 

In  vain,  thou  senseless  flutt’ring  thing. 

My  heart  informs  me.  His  not  Spring,’^  • 

May  pois’d  her  roseate  wings,  for  she  had  heard 
The  mourner,  as  she  pass’d  the  vales  along ; 

And,  silencing  her  own  indignant  bird, 

*Sbe  thus  reprov’d  poor  Silvio’s  song. 


134 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


How  false  is  the  sight  of  a lover ; 

How  ready  his  spleen  to  discover 
What  reason  would  never  allow  I 
Why, — Silvio,  my  sunshine  and  showers, 

My  blossoms,  my  birds,  and  my  flowers, 

Were  never  more  perfect  than  now. 

“ The  water’s  reflection  is  true. 

The  green  is  enamell’d  to  view, 

And  Philomel  sings  on  the  spray  ; 

The  gale  is  the  breathing  of  spring, 

’Tis  fragrance  it  bears  on  its  wing. 

And  the  bee  is  assur’d  it  is  MayJ^ 

Pardon  (said  Silvio  with  a gushing  tear), 

^Tis  spring,  sweet  nymph,  hut  Laura  is  not  hereP 

In  sending  these  verses  to  Mrs.  Sheridan,  he  had  also  written 
her  a description  of  some  splendid  party,  at  which  he  had  lately 
been  present,  where  all  the  finest  women  of  the  world  of  fashion 
were  assembled.  His  praises  of  their  beauty,  as  well  as  his 
account  of  their  flattering  attentions  to  himself,  awakened  a feel- 
ing of  at  least  poetical  jealousy  in  Mrs.  Sheridan,  which  she 
expressed  in  the  following  answer  to  his  verses — taking  occasion, 
at  the  same  time,  to  pay  some  generous  compliments  to  the 
most  brilliant  among  his  new  fashionable  friends.  Though  her 
verses  are  of  that  kind  which  we  read  more  with  interest  than 
admiration,  they  have  quite  enough  of  talent  for  the  gentle 
themes  to  which  she  aspired ; and  there  is,  besides,  a charm 
about  them,  as  coming  from  Mrs.  Sheridan,  to  which  far  better 
poetry  could  not  pretend. 

TO  SILVIO. 

Soft  flow’d  the  lay  by  Avon’s  sedgy  side. 

While  o’er  its  streams  the  drooping  willow  hung, 

Beneath  whose  shadow  Silvio  fondly  tried 
Tip  check  the  opening  roses  as  they  sprung. 

In  vain  he  bade  them  cease  to  court  the  gale. 

That  wanton’d  balmy  on  the  zephyr’s  wing ; 

In  vain,  when  Philomel  renew’d  her  tale. 

He  chid  her  song,  and  said  ‘ It  was  not  Spring,'^ 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  135 


For  still  they  bloom’d,  tho’  Silvio’s  heart  was  sad, 

Nor  did  sweet  Philomel  neglect  to  sing  ; 

The  zephyrs  scorned  them  not.  tho’  Silvio  had, 

For  love  and  nature  told  them  it  was  Spring,* 

* * * 

To  other  scenes  doth  Silvio  now  repair, 

To  nobler  themes  his  daring  Muse  aspires  ; 

Around  him  throng  the  gay,  the  young,  the  fair, 

His  lively  wit  the  listening  crowd  admires. 

And  see,  where  radiant  Beauty  smiling  stands, 

With  gentle  voice  and  soft  beseeching  eyes, 

To  gain  the  laurel  from  his  willing  hands, 

Her  every  art  the  fond  enchantress  tries. 

Whai  various  charms  the  admiring  youth  surround. 

How  shall  he  sing,  or  how  attempt  to  praise  ? 

So  lovely  all — where  shall  the  bard  be  found, 

Who  can  to  07ie  alone  attune  his  lays? 

Behold  with  graceful  step  and  smile  serene. 

Majestic  Stellaf  moves  to  claim  the  prize  : 

’Tis  thine,”  he  cries,  for  thou  art  beauty’s  queen.” 

Mistaken  youth  ! and  sees’t  thou  Myra’sJ  eyes  ? 

With  beaming  lustre  see  they  dart  at  thee  : 

Ah  ! dread  their  vengeance — yet  withhold  thy  hand, — 

That  deep’ning  blush  upbraids  thy  rash  decree  ; 

Hers  is  the  wreath — obey  the  just  demand. 

Pardon,  bright  nymph,”  (the  wond^ng  Silvio  cries) 

And  oh,  receive  the  wreath  thy  beauty’s  due” — 

His  voice  awards  what  still  his  hand  denies. 

For  beauteous  Amoret§  now  his  eyes  pursue. 

With  gentle  step  and  hesitating  grace. 

Unconscious  of  her  pow’r  the  fair  one  came ; 

If,  while  he  view’d  the  glories  of  that  face. 

Poor  Silvio  doubted, — who  shall  dare  to  blame  ? 

♦ As  the  poem  altogether  would  be  too  long,  I have  here  omitted  five  or  six  stanzas. 

f According  to  the  Key  which  has  been  given  me,  the  name  of  Stella  was  meant  to 
designate  the  Duchess  of  Rutland. 

J The  Duchess  of  Devonshire. 

^ Mrs.  (afterwards  Lady)  Crewe- 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


A rosy  blush  his  ardent  gaze  reprov’d, 

The  offer’d  wreath  she  modestly  declined  ; — 

If  sprightly  wit  and  dimpled  smiles  are  lov’d. 

My  brow,”  said  Flavia,*  ‘‘  shall  that  garland  bind.” 

With  wanton  gaiety  the  prize  she  seized — 

Silvio  in  vain  her  snowy  hand  repell’d  ; 

The  fickle  youth  unwillingly  was  pleas’d. 

Reluctantly  the  wreath  he  yet  withheld. 

But  Jessie’sf  all-seducing  form  appears. 

Nor  more  the  playful  Flavia  could  delight ; 

Lovely  in  smiles,  more  lovely  still  in  tears, 

Her  every  glance  shone  eloquently  bright. 

Those  radiant  eyes  in  safety  none  could  view. 

Did  not  those  fringed  lids  their  brightness  shade— 

Mistaken  youths ! their  beams,  too  late  ye  knew, 

Are  by  that  soft  defence  more  fatal  made. 

0 God  of  Love !”  with  transport  Silvio  cries. 

Assist  me  thou,  this  contest  to  decide  ; 

And  since  to  one  I cannot  yield  the  prize. 

Permit  thy  slave  the  garland  to  divide. 

On  Myra’s  breast  the  opening  rose  shall  blow. 
Reflecting  from  her  cheek  a livelier  bloom ; 

For  Stella  shall  the  bright  carnation  glow — 

Beneath  her  eyes’  bright  radiance  meet  its  doom. 

Smart  pinks  and  daffodils  shall  Flavia  grace. 

The  modest  eglantine  and  violet  blue 

On  gentle  ximoret’s  placid  brow  I’ll  place — 

Of  elegance  and  love  an  emblem  true.” 

In  gardens  oft  a beauteous  flow’r  there  grows, 

By  vulgar  eyes  unnoticed  and  unseen  ; 

In  sweet  security  it  humbly  blows. 

And  rears  its  purple  head  to  deck  the  green. 

This  flower,  as  nature’s  poet  sweetly  sings. 

Was  once  milk-white,  and  heart' s-ease  was  its  name 

Till  wanton  Cupid  pois’d  his  roseate  wings, 

A vestal’s  sacred  bosom  to  inflame; 

* Lady  Craven,  afterwards  Margravine  of  Anspach. 
f The  late  Countess  of  Jersey, 


BIGHT  HON.  EICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  137 


With  treacherous  aim  the  god  his  arrow  drew, 

Which  she  with  icy  coldness  did  repel ; 

Rebounding  thence  with  feathery  speed  it  flew, 

Till  on  this  lojiely  flower  at  last  it  fell. 

Heart* 3-ease  no  more  the  wandering  shepherds  found, 
No  more  the  nymphs  its  snowy  form  possess  ; 

Its  white  now  chang’d  to  purple  by  Love’s  wound, 
Heart’s-e'ftse  no  more,  ’tis  “ Love  in  Idleness.” 

“ This  flow’r  with  sweet-brier  join’d  shall  thee  adorn. 
Sweet  Jessie,  fairest  ’mid  ten  thousand  fair! 

But  guard  thy  gentle  bosom  from  the  thorn, 

Which,  tho’  conceal’d,  the  sweet-brier  still  must  bear. 

“ And  place  not  Love,  tho’  idle,  in  thy  breast, 

Tho’  bright  its  hues,  it  boasts  no  other  charm — 

So  may  thy  future  days  be  ever  blest, 

And  friendship’s  calmer  joys  thy  bosom  warm  1” 

But  where  does  Laura  pass  her  lonely  hours  ? 

Does  she  still  haunt  the  grot  and  willow-tree  ? 

Shall  Silvio  from  his  wreath  of  various  flowr’s 
Neglect  to  cull  one  simple  sweet  for  thee  ? 

• Ah,  Laura,  no,”  the  constant  Silvio  cries, 

“ For  thee  a never-fading  wreath  I’ll  twine  ; 

Though  bright  the  rose,  its  bloom  too  swiftly  flies. 

No  emblem  meet  for  love  so  true  as  mine. 

For  thee,  my  love,  the  myrtle,  ever-green. 

Shall  every  year  its  blossom  sweet  disclose. 

Which,  when  our  spring  of  youth  no  more  is  seen, 

Shall  still  appear  more  lovely  than  the  rose.” 

Forgive,  dear  youth,”  the  happy  Laura  said, 

Forgive  each  doubt,  each  fondly  anxious  fear, 

Which  from  my  heart  for  ever  now  is  fled— 

Thy  love  and  truth,  thus  tried,  are  doubly  dear. 

‘ With  pain  I mark’d  the  various  passions  rise. 

When  beauty  so  divine  before  thee  mov’d  ; 

With  trembling  doubt  beheld  thy  wandering  eyes. 

For  still  I fear’d ; — alas  1 because  I lov’d. 


188 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


‘‘  Each  anxious  doubt  shall  Laura  now  forego, 

No  more  regret  those  joys  so  lately  known, 
Conscious,  that  tho^  thy  breast  to  all  may  glow, 
Thy  faithful  heart  shall  beat  for  her  alone. 

Then,  Silvio,  seize  again  thy  tuneful  lyre. 

Nor  yet  sweet  Beauty’s  power  forbear  to  praise 
Again  let  charms  divine  thy  strains  inspire. 

And  Laura’s  voice  shall  aid  the  poet’s  lays,’’ 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  189 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

Mr.  Sheridan  was  now  approaching  the  summit  of  his  dra- 
matic fame ; — he  had  already  produced  the  best  opera  in  the  lan- 
guage, and  there  now  remained  for  him  the  glory  of  writing  also 
the  best  comedy.  As  this  species  of  composition  seems,  more, 
perhaps,  than  any  other,  to  require  that  knowledge  of  human 
nature  and  the  world  which  experience  alone  can  give,  it  seems 
not  a little  extraordinary  that  nearly  all  our  first-rate  comedies 
should  have  been  the  productions  of  very  young  men.  Those 
of  Congreve  were  all  written  before  he  was  five-and-twenty. 
Farquhar  produced  the  Constant  Couple  in  his  two-and-twentieth 
year,  and  died  at  thirty.  Vanbrugh  was  a young  ensign  when  he 
sketched  out  the  Relapse  and  the  Provoked  Wife,  and  Sheridan 
crowned  his  reputation  with  the  School  for  Scandal  at  six-and- 
twenty. 

It  is,  perhaps,  still  more  remarkable  to  find,  as  in  the  instance 
before  us,  that  works  which,  at  this  period  of  life,  we  might  sup- 
pose to  have  been  the  rapid  offspring  of  a careless,  but  vigorous 
fancy, — anticipating  the  results  of  experience  by  a sort  of  second- 
sight  inspiration, — should,  on  the  contrary,  have  been  the  slow 
result  of  many  and  doubtful  experiments,  gradually  unfolding 
beauties  unforeseen  even  by  him  who  produced  them,  and  arriving, 
at  length,  step  by  step,  at  perfection.  That  such  was  the  tardy 
process  by  which  the  School  for  Scandal  was  produced,  will  ap- 
pear from  the  first  sketches  of  its  plan  and  dialogue,  which  I am 
here  enabled  to  lay  before  the  reader,  and  which  cannot  fail  to 
interest  deeply  all  those  who  take  delight  in  ti  acing  the  alchemy 
of  genius,  and  in  watching  the  first  slow  w’’orkings  of  the  men- 
struum, out  of  which  its  finest  transmutations  arise- 


140 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  Cl  THE 


“ Genius,”  says  BufFon,  “ is  Patience or,  (as  another  French 
writer  has  explained  his  thought) — “ I^a  Patience  cherche,  et  le 
Genie  trouve  and  there  is  little  doubt  that  to  the  co-operation 
of  these  two  powers  all  the  brightest  inventions  of  this  world  are 

owing  ; that  Patience  must  first  explore  the  depths  where  the 

pearl  lies  hid,  before  Genius  boldly  dives  and  brings  it  up  full 
into  light.  There  are,  it  is  true,  some  striking  exceptions  to  this 
rule ; and  our  own  times  have  witnessed  more  than  one  extraor- 
dinary intellect,  whose  depth  has  not  prevented  their  treasures 
from  lying  ever  ready  within  reach.  But  the  records  of  Immor- 
tality furnish  few  such  instances ; and  all  we  know  of  the  works, 
that  she  has  hitherto  marked  with  her  seal,  sufficiently  authorize 
the  general  position, — that  nothing  great  and  durable  has  ever 
been  produced  with  ease,  and  that  Labor  is  the  parent  of  all  the 
lasting  wonders  of  this  world,  whether  in  verse  or  stone,  whether 
poetry  or  pyramids. 

The  first  sketch  of  the  School  for  Scandal  that  occurs  was 
written,  I am  inclined  to  think,  before  the  Rivals,  or  at  least  very 
soon  after  it ; — and  that  it  was  his  original  intention  to  satirize 
some  of  the  gossips  of  Bath  appears  from  the  title  under  which 
I find  noted  down,  as  follows,  the  very  first  hints,  probably,  that 
suggested  themselves  for  the  dialogue. 

The  Slanderers. — A Pump-Room  Scene, 

Friendly  caution  to  the  newspapers. 

It  is  whispered 

“ She  is  a constant  attendant  a1  church,  and  very  frequently  takes  Dr. 
M ’Brawn  home  with  her. 

‘‘  Mr.  Worthy  is  very  good  to  the  girl ; — for  my  part,  I dare  swear  he  has 
no  ill  intention. 

‘‘  What ! Major  Wesley’s  Miss  Montague? 

Lud,  ma’am,  the  match  is  certainly  broke — no  creature  knows  the 
cause ; some  say  a flaw  in  the  lady’s  character,  and  others,  in  the  gentle- 
man’s fortune. 

To  be  sure  they  do  say 

I hate  to  repeat  what  I hear. 

“ She  was  inclined  to  be  a little  too  plump  before  she  went. 

‘‘  The  most  intrepid  blush  ; — I’ve  known  her  complexion  stand  fire  for 
hour  together. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  141 


‘ She  had  twins/ — How  ill-natured ! as  I hope  to  he  saved,  ma’am,  she 
had  but  one  ; and  that  a little  starved  brat  not  worth  mentioning.” 

The  following  is  the  opening  scene  of  his  first  sketch,  from 
which  it  will  be  perceived  that  the  original  plot  was  wholly  dif- 
ferent from  what  it  is  at  present, Sir  Peter  and  Lady  Teazle 

being  at  that  time  not  in  existence. 

“ Lady  Sneerwell  and  Spatter. 

“ Lady  S.  The  paragraphs,  you  say,  were  all  inserted. 

Spat.  They  were,  madam. 

Lady  S.  Did  you  circulate  the  report  of  Lady  Brittle’s  intrigue  with 
Captain  Boastall  ? 

Spat.  Madam,  by  this  Lady  Brittle  is  the  talk  of  half  the  town  ; and 
in  a week  will  be  treated  as  a demirep. 

“ Lady  S.  What  have  you  done  as  to  the  innuendo  of  Miss  Niceley’s  fond- 
ness for  her  own  footman  ? 

‘‘  Spat.  ’Tis  in  a fair  train,  ma’am.  T told  it  to  my  hair-dresser, — he  courts 
a milliner’s  girl  in  Pall  Mall,  whose  mistress  has  a first  cousin  who  is  wait- 
ing-woman to  Lady  Clackit.  I think  in  about  fourteen  hours  it  must  reach 
Lady  Clackit,  and  then  you  know  the  business  is  done. 

“ Lady  S.  But  is  that  sufficient,  do  you  think? 

Spat.  O Lud,  ma’am.  I’ll  undertake  to  ruin  the  character  of  the  prim- 
mest prude  in  London  with  half  as  much.  Ha ! ha  ! Did  your  ladyship  never 
hear  how  poor  Miss  Shepherd  lost  her  lover  and  her  character  last  summer 

at  Scarborough?  this  was  the  whole  of  it.  One  evening  at  Lady ’s, 

the  conversation  happened  to  turn  on  the  difficulty  of  breeding  Nova 

Scotia  sheep  in  England.  ‘ I have  known  instances,’  says  Miss , ‘ for 

last  spring,  a friend  of  mine.  Miss  Shepherd  of  Ramsgate,  had  a Nova  Scotia 
sheep  that  produced  her  twins.’ — ‘ AVhat !’  cries  the  old  deaf  dowager  Lady 
Bowdwell,  ‘has  Miss  Shepherd  of  Ramsgate  been  brought  to  bed  of  twins?’ 
This  mistake,  as  you  may  suppose,  set  the  company  a laughing.  However, 
the  next  day.  Miss  Verjuice  Amarilla  Lonely,  who  had  been  of  the  party, 
talking  of  Lady  Bowlwell’s  deafness,  began  to  tell  what  had  happened ; 
but,  unluckily,  forgetting  to  say  a word  of  the  sheep,  it  was  understood  by 
the  company,  and,  in  every  circle,  many  believed,  that  Miss  Shepherd  of 
Ramsgate  had  actually  been  brought  to  bed  of  a fine  boy  and  a girl ; and,  in 
less  than  a fortnight,  there  were  people  who  could  name  the  father,  and  the 
farm-house  where  the  babies  Vv  ere  put  out  to  nurse. 

” Lady  S,  Ha ! ha  ! well,  for  a stroke  of  luck,  it  was  a very  good  one. 
I suppose  you  find  no  difficulty  in  spreading  the  report  on  the  censorious 
Miss , 


142 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Spat.  None  in  the  world,—  she  has  always  been  so  prudent  and  reserved, 
that  every  body  was  sure  thiere  was  some  reason  for  it  at  bottom. 

‘‘  Lady  S.  Yes,  a tale  of  scandal  is  as  fatal  to  the  credit  of  a prude  as  a 
fever  to  those  of  the  strongest  constitutions  ; but  there  is  a sort  of  sickly 
reputation  that  outlives  hundreds  of  the  robuster  character  of  a prude. 

‘‘  Spat.  True,  ma’am,  there  are  valetudinarians  in  reputation  as  in  con- 
stitutions ; and  both  are  cautious  from  their  appreciation  and  conscious- 
ness of  their  weak  side,  and  avoid  the  least  breath  of  air.* 

Lady  S.  But,  Spatter,  I have  something  of  greater  confidence  now  to  en- 
trust you  with.  I think  I have  some  claim  to  your  gratitude. 

“ Spat.  Have  I ever  shown  myself  one  moment  unconscious  of  what  I 
owe  you? 

Lady  S.  I do  not  charge  you  with  it,  but  this  is  an  affair  of  importance. 
You  are  acquainted  with  my  situation,  but  not  all  my  weaknesses.  I was 
hurt,  ill  the  early  part  of  my  life,  by  the  envenom’d  tongue  of  scandal,  and 
ever  since,  I own,  have  no  joy  but  in  sullying  the  fame  of  others.  In  this 
I have  found  you  an  apt  tool : you  have  often  been  the  instrument  of  my 
revenge,  but  you  must  now  assist*  me  in  a softer  passion.  A young  widow 
with  a little  beauty  and  easy  fortune  is  seldom  driven  to  sue, — yet  is  that 
my  case.  Of  the  many  you  have  seen  here,  have  you  ever  observed  me, 
secretly,  to  favor  one  ? 

“ Spat.  Egad ! I never  was  more  posed  : I’m  sure  you  cannot  mean  that 
ridiculous  old  knight.  Sir  Christopher  Crab  ? 

“ Lady  S.  A wretch ! his  assiduities  are  my  torment. 

Spat.  Perhaps  his  nephew,  the  baronet.  Sir  Benjamin  Backbite,  is  the 
happy  man  ? 

Lady  S.  No,  though  he  has  ill-nature,  and  a good  person  on  his  side,  he 
is  not  to  my  taste.  What  think  you  of  Clerimont?f 

Spat.  How ! the  professed  lover  of  your  ward,  Maria  ; between  whom, 
too,  there  is  a mutual  aftection. 

Lady  S.  Yes,  that  insensible,  that  doater  on  an  idiot,  is  the  man. 

Spat.  But  how  can  you  hope  to  succeed  ? 

Lady  S.  By  poisoning  both  with  jealousy  of  the  other,  till  the  credu- 
lous fool,  in  a pique,  shall  be  entangled  in  my  snare. 

‘‘  Spat.  Have  you  taken  any  measure  for  it  ? 

Lady  S.  I have.  Maria  has  made  me  the  confidante  of  Clerimont’s  love 
for  her  : in  return,  I pretended  to  entrust  her  with  my  affection  for  Sir 


♦ This  is  one  of  fne  many  instances,  where  ir.e  improving  effect  cf  revision  may  be 
traced.  The  passage  at  present  stands  thus  : — “There  are  valetudinarians  in  reputation 
as  well  as  constitution  ; who,  being  conscious  of  their  weak  part,  avoid  the  least  breath 
of  air,  and  supply  the  want  of  stamina  by  care  and  circumspection.’* 
f Afterwards  called  Florival. 


HIGHT.  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  143 


Benjamin,  wlio  is  her  warm  admirer.  By  strong  representation  of  my  pas- 
sion, I prevailed  on  her  not  to  refuse  to  see  Sir  Benjamin,  which  she  once 
promised  Clerimont  to  do.  I entreated  her  to  plead  my  cause,  and  even 
drew  her  in  to  answer  Sir  Benjamin’s  letters  with  the  same  intent.  Of  this 
I have  made  Clerimont  suspicious ; hut  ’tis  you  must  inflame  him  to  the 
pitch  I want. 

“ Spat.  But  will  not  Maria,  on  the  least  unkindness  of  Clerimont,  in- 
stantly come  to  an  explanation  ? 

Lady  S.  This  is  what  we  must  prevent  by  blinding  * *♦***” 

The  scene  that  follows,  between  Lady  Sneerwell  and  Maria, 
gives  some  insight  into  the  use  that  was  to  be  made  of  this  intri- 
cate ground- work,^  and  it  was,  no  doubt,  the  difficulty  of  man- 
aging such  an  involvement  of  his  personages  dramatically,  that 
drove  him,  luckily  for  the  world,  to  the  construction  of  a sim- 
pler, and,  at  the  same  time,  more  comprehensive  plan.  He 
might  also,  possibly,  have  been  ’ influenced  by  the  consideration, 
that  the  chief  movement  of  this  plot  must  depend  upon  the  jea- 
lousy of  the  lover, — a spring  of  interest  which  he  had  already 
brought  sufficiently  into  play  in  the  Rivals. 

Lady  Sneerwell.  Well,  my  love,  have  you  seen  Clerimont  to-day? 

Maria.  I have  not,  nor  does  he  come  as  often  as  he  used.  Indeed,  ma 
dam,  I fear  what  I ha  e done  to  serve  you  has  by  some  means  come  to  his 
knowledge,  and  injured  me  in  his  opinion.  I promised  him  faithfully  never 
to  see  Sir  Benjamin.  What  confidence  can  he  ever  have  in  me,  if  he  once 
finds  I have  broken  my  word  to  him  ^ ^ 

Lady  S.  Nay,  you  are  too  grave.  If  he  should  suspect  any  thing,  it 
will  always  be  in  my  power  to  undeceive  him. 

“ Mar.  Well,  you  have  involved  me  in  deceit,  and  I must  trust  to  you  to 
extricate  me. 

Lady  S.  Have  you  answered  Sir  Benjamin’s  last  letter  in  the  manner  I 
wished  ? 

“ Mar.  I have  written  exactly  as  you  desired  me  : but  I wish  you  would 
give  me  leave  to  tell  the  whole  truth  to  Clerimont  at  once.  There  is  a cold- 
ness in  his  manner  of  late,  which  I can  no  ways  account  for. 

* The  following’  is  his  own  arrangement  of  the  Scenes  of  the  Second  Act. 

“Act  II.  Scene  1st.  All. — 2d.  Lady  S.  and  Mrs.  C. — 3d.  Lady  S.  and  * * Em.  and  Mr*. 
C.  listening. — 4th.  L.  S.  and  Flor.  shows  him  into  the  room, — bids  him  return  the  other  way. 
— L.  S.  and  Emma. — Emma  and  Florival  ; — fits, — maid. — Emma  fainting  and  sobbing  :--i 

‘Death,  don’t  expose  me  !’ — enter  maid, — will  call  out — all  come  on  with  cards  and  smell- 
ing bottles.” 


144 


MEMOIES  OP  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

‘‘  Lady  S.  {aside.)  I^m  glad  to  find  I have  worked  on  him  so  far  ; — fie, 
Maria,  have  you  so  little  regard  for  me  ? would  you  put  me  to  the  shame 
of  being  known  to  love  a man  who  disregards  me  ? Had  you  entrusted  me 
with  such  a secret,  not  a husband’s  power  should  have  forced  it  from  me. 
But,  do  as  you  please.  Go,  forget  the  affection  I have  shown  you  : forget 
that  I have  been  as  a mother  to  you,  whom  I found  an  orphan.  Go,  break 
through  all  ties  of  gratitude,  and  expose  me  to  the  world’s  derision,  to 
avoid  one  sullen  hour  from  a moody  lover. 

“ Mar.  Indeed,  madam,  you  wrong  me  ; and  you  who  know  the  appre- 
hension of  love,  should  make  allowance  for  its  weakness.  My  love  for 
Clerimont  is  so  great — 

Lady  S.  Peace  ; it  cannot  exceed  mine. 

‘‘  Mar.  For  Sir  Benjamin,  perhaps  not,  ma’am and,  I am  sure,  Cleri- 

mont has  as  sincere  an  affection  for  me. 

“ Lady  8.  Would  to  heaven  I could  say  the  same ! 

Mar.  Of  Sir  Benjamin  : — I wish  so  too,  ma’am.  But  I am  sure  you 
would  be  extremely  hurt,  if,  in  gaining  your  wishes,  you  were  to  injure  me 
in  the  opinion  of  Clerimont. 

Lady  8.  Undoubtedly  ; I would  not  for  the  world — Simple  fool ! {aside.) 
But  my  wishes,  my  happiness  depend  on  you — for,  I doat  so  on  the  insen- 
sible, that  it  kills  me  to  see  him  so  attached  to  you.  Give  me  but  Cleri- 
mont, and 

‘‘  Mar.  Clerimont ! 

Lady  8.  Sir  Benjamin,  you  know,  I meant.  Is  he  not  attached  to  you  ? 
am  I not  slighted  for  you  ? Yet,  do  I bear  any  enmity  to  you,  as  my  rival? 
I only  request  your  friendly  intercession,  and  you  are  sc  ungrateful,  you 
would  deny  me  that. 

Mar.  Nay,  madam,  have  I not  dune  everything  you  wished  ? For  you, 
I have  departed  from  truth,  and  contaminated  my  mind  with  falsehood — 
what  could  I do  more  to  serve  you  ? 

“ Lady  8.  Well,  forgive  me,  I was  too  warm.  I knew  you  would  not  be- 
tray me.  I expect  Sir  Benjamin  and  his  uncle  this  morning — why,  Maria, 
do  you  always  leave  our  little  parties  ? 

Mar.  I own,  madam,  I have  no  pleasure  in  their  conversation.  I have 
myself  no  gratification  in  uttering  detraction,  and  therefore  none  in  hear 
ing  it. 

“ Lady  8.  Oh  fie,  you  are  serious— ’tis  only  a little  harmless  raillery. 

Mar.  I never  can  think  that  harmless  which  hurts  the  peace  of  youth, 
draws  tears  from  beauty,  and  gives  many  a pang  to  the  innocent. 

“ Lady  8.  Nay,  you  must  allow  that  many  people  of  sense  and  wit  have 
this  foible— Sir  Benjamin  Backbite,  for  instance. 

“ Mar.  He  may,  but  I confess  I never  can  perceive  wit  where  I see 
malice. 


KIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  145 


Lady  S.  Fie,  Maria,  you  have  the  most  unpolished  way  of  thinking! 
It  is  absolutely  impossible  to  be  witty  without  being  a little  ill-natured. 
The  malice  of  a good  thing  is  the  barb  that  makes  it  stick.  I protest  now 
when  I say  an  ill-natured  thing,  I have  not  the  least  malice  against  the 
person  ; and,  indeed,  it  may  be  of  one  whom  I never  saw  in  my  life  ; for 
I hate  to  abuse  a friend — but  I take  it  for  granted,  they  all  speak  as  ill- 
naturedly  of  me.  ' 

Mar.  Then  you  are,  very  probably,  conscious  you  deserve  it — for  my 
part,  I shall  only  suppose  myself  ill-spoken  of,  when  I am  conscious  J de- 
serve it.” 


Enter  Servant. 

‘‘  Ser.  Mrs.  Candor. 

“ Mar.  Well,  I’ll  leave  you. 

‘‘  Lady  8.  No,  no,  you  have  no  reason  to  avoid  her,  she  is  good  nature 
itself. 

Mar.  Yes,  with  an  artful  allectation  of  candor,  she  does  more  injury 
than  the  worst  backbiter  of  them  all.” 

Enter  Mks.  Candor. 

Mrs.  Cand.  So,  Lady  Sneerwell,  how  d’ye  do  ? Maria,  child,  how  dost  ? 
Well,  who  is’t  you  are  to  marry  at  last  ? Sir  Benjamin  or  Clerimont  ? The 
town  talks  of  nothing  else.” 

Through  the  remaiiicler  of  this  scene  the  only  difference  in  the 
speeches  of  Mrs.  Candor  is,  that  they  abound  more  than  at  pre- 
sent in  ludicrous  names  and  anecdotes,  and  occasionally  straggle 
into  that  loose  wordiness,  which,  knowing  how  much  it  weakens 
the  sap  of  wit,  the  good  taste  of  Sheridan  was  always  sure  to 
lop  away.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  greater  part  of  that 
scene  of  scandal  which  at  present  occurs  in  the  second  Act,  and 
in  which  all  that  is  now  spoken  by  T.ady  Teazle,  was  originally 
put  into  the  mouths  of  Sir  Christopher  Crab  and  others — the 
caustic  remarks  of  Sir  Peter  Teazle  being,  as  well  as  himself,  an 
after  creation. 

It  is  chiefly,  however,  in  Clerimont,  the  embryo  of  Charles 
Surface,  that  we  perceive  how  imperfect  may  be  the  first  linea- 
ments, that  Time  and  Taste  contrive  to  mould  gradually  into 
beauty.  The  following  is  the  scene  that  introduces  him  to  the 
audience,  and  no  one  ought  to  be  disheartened  by  the  failure  of 

VOL.  r.  7 


146 


MilMOlilS  Oi"  TiJE  LIFE  OF  THE 


a fu'st  attempt  after  reading  it.  The  spiritless  language — the 
awkward  introduction  of  the  sister  into  the  plot — the  antiquated 
expedient*  of  dropping  the  letter — all,  in  short,  is  of  the  most 
undramatic  and  most  unpromising  description,  and  as  little  like 
what  it  afterwards  turned  to  as  the  block  is  to  the  statue,  or  the 
grub  to  the  butterfly. 

Sir  O,  This  Clerimont  is,  to  he  sure,  the  drollest  mortal  I he  is  one 
of  your  moral  fellows,  who  does  unto  others  as  he  would  they  should  do 
unto  him. 

“ Lady  Sneer.  Yet  he  is  sometimes  entertaining. 

Sir  (7.  Oh  hang  him,  no — he  has  too  much  good  nature  to  say  a witty 
thing  himself,  and  is  too  ill-natured  to  praise  wit  in  others. 

Enter  Clerimont. 

“ Sir  B.  So,  Clerimont — we  were  just  wishing  for  you  to  enliven  us 
with  your  wit  and  agreeable  vein. 

“ Gler.  No,  Sir  Benjamin,  I cannot  join  you. 

Sir  B.  Why,  man,  you  look  as  grave  as  a young  lover  the  first  time 
he  is  jilted. 

Cler.  I have  some  cause  to  be  grave.  Sir  Benjamin.  A word  with  you 
all.  1 have  just  received  a letter  from  the  country,  in  which  I understand 
that  my  sister  has  suddenly  left  my  nucleus  house,  and  has  not  since  been 
heard  of. 

Lady  S.  Indeed  ! and  on  what  provocation? 

“ Cler.  It  seems  they  were  urging  her  a little  too  hastily  to  marry  some 
country  squire  that  w^as  not  to  her  taste. 

‘‘  Sir  B.  Positively  I love  her  for  her  spirit.  ^ 

Lady  S.  And  so  do  I,  and  would  protect  her,  if  I knew  where  she  was. 

Cler.  Sir  Benjamin,  a word  with  you — {takes  him  apart.)  I think,  sir, 
we  have  lived  for  some  years  on  what  the  world  calls  the  footing  of  friends. 

“ Sir  B.  To  my  great  honor,  sir — Well,  my  deal-  friend  ? 

Cler.  You  know  that  you  once  paid  your  addresses  to  my  sister.  My 
uncle  disliked  you  ; but  I have  reason  to  think  you  were  not  indiflerent  to  her. 

Sir  B.  I believe  you  are  pretty  right  there  ; ' ut  what  follows? 

Cler.  Then  I think  I have  a right  to  expect  an  implicit  answer  from 
you,  whether  you  are  in  any  respect  privy  to  her  elopement  ? 

“ Sir  B.  Why,  you  certainly  have  a right  to  ask  the  question,  and  I will 
answer  you  as  sincerely — which  is,  that  though  I make  no  doubt  but  that 

* This  objection  seems  to  have  occurred  to  hiinseif ; for  one  of  his  memorandums  is — 
‘‘Not  to  drop  the  letter,  but  lake  it  from  the  maid. 


RIGHT  floisr.  RICHARh  BRlRgRRY  SHERIDAN.  l4? 


she  would  have  gone  with  me  to  the  world's  end.  I am  at  present  entirely 
ignorant  of  the  whole jiffair.  This  I declare  to  you  upon  my  honor — and, 
what  is  more,  I assure  you  my  devotions  are  at  present  paid  to  another 
lady — one  of  your  acquaintance,  too. 

Cler.  {Aside.)  Now,  who  can  this  other  be  whom  he  alludes  to  ? — I 
have  sometimes  thought  I perceived  a kind  of  mystery  between  him  and 
Maria — but  I rely  on  her  promise,  though,  of  late,  her  conduct  to  me  has 
been  strangely  reserved. 

Lady  S.  Why,  Clerimont,  you  seem  quite  thoughtful.  Come  with  us  ; 
we  are  going  to  kill  an  hour  at  ombre — your  mistress  will  join  us. 

Cler.  Madam,  I attend  you. 

Lady  S.  {Talcing  Sir  B.  aside.)  Sir  Benjamin,  I see  Maria  is  now  com- 
ing to  join  us — do  you  detain  her  awhile,  and  I will  contrive  that  Clerimont 
should  see  you,  and  then  drop  this  letter.  {^Exeunt  all  hut  Sir.  B. 

Enter  Maria. 

Mar.  I thought  the  company  were  here,  and  Clerimont — 

Sir  B.  One,  more  your  slave  than  Clerimont,  is  here. 

Mar.  Dear  Sir  Benjamin,  I thought  you  promised  me  to  drop  this  sub- 
ject. If  I have  really  any  power  over  you,  you  will  oblige  me — 

Sir  B.  Power  over  me!  What  is  there  you  could  not  command  me  in? 
Have  you  not  wrought  on  me  to  proffer  my  love  to  Lady  Sneerwell  ? Yet 
though  you  gain  this  from  me,  you  will  not  give  me  the  smallest  token  of 
gratitude. 

Enter  Clerimont  behind. 

Mat.  How  can  I believe  your  love  sincere,  when  you  continue  still  to 
importune  me  ? ^ 

Sir  B.  I ask  but  for  your  friendship,  your  esteem. 

‘‘  Mar.  That  you  shall  ever  be  entitled  to — then  I may  depend  upon 
your  honor  ? 

Sir  B.  Eternally — dispose  of  my  heart  as  you  please. 

Mar.  Depend  upon  it,  I shall  study  nothing  but  its  happiness.  I need 
not  repeat  my  caution  as  to  Clerimont  ? 

Sir  B.  No,  no,  he  suspects  nothing  as  yet. 

• Mar.  For,  within  these  few  days,  I almost  believed  that  he  suspects 
me. 

Sir  B.  Never  fear,  he  does  not  love  well  enough  to  be  quick  sighted  ; 
for  just  now  he  taxed  me  with  eloping  with  his  sistef. 

“ Mar.  Well,  we  had  now  best  join  the  company.  {^Exeunt. 

“ Cler.  So,  now — w^ho  can  ever  have  faith  in  woman!  D — d deceitful 
wanton ! why  did  she  not  fairly  tell  me  that  she  was  weary  of  my  address- 
es? that,  woman-like,  her  mind  was  changed,  and  another  fool  succeeded. 


148 


Memoirs  of  tMe  life  of  the 


Enter  Lady  Sneer  well. 

Lady  S.  Clerimont,  why  do  you  leave  us  ? Think  of  my  losing  this 
hand.  {Gler.  She  has  no  heart) — five  mate — {Cler.  Deceitful  wanton!) 
spadille. 

Cler.  Oh  yes,  ma’am — ’twas  very  hard. 

Lady  S But  you  seem  disturbed  ; and  where  are  Maria  and  Sir  Ben- 
jamin ? I vow  I shall  be  jealous  of  Sir  Benjamin. 

Cler.  I dare  swear  they  are  together  very  happy, — but.  Lady  Sneer- 
VT-ell — you  may  perhaps  often  have  perceived  that  I am  discontented  with 
Maria.  I ask  you  to  tell  me  sincerely — have  you  ever  perceived  it  ? 

Lady  S.  I wish  you  would  excuse  me. 

Cler,  Nay,  you  have  perceived  it — I know  you  hate  deceit.  * * 

« * * * 

I have  said  that  the  other  sketch,  in  which  Sir  Peter  and  Lady 
Teazle  are  made  the  leading  personages,  was  written  subsequent- 
ly to  that  of  which  I have  just  given  specimens.  Of  this,  how- 
ever, I cannot  produce  any  positive  proof.  There  is  no  date  on 
the  manuscripts,  nor  any  other  certain  clue,  to  assist  in  deciding 
the  precedency  of  time  between  them.  In  addition  to  this,  the 
two  plans  are  entirely  distinct, — Lady  Sneerwell  and  her  asso- 
ciates being  as  wholly  excluded  from  the  one,  as  Sir  Peter  and 
Lady  Teazle  are  from  the  other ; so  that  it  is  difficult  to  say, 
with  certainty,  which  existed  first,  or  at  what  time  the  happy 
thought  occurred  of  blending  all  that  was  best  in  each  into  one. 

The  following  are  the  Dramatis  Personae  of  the  second  plan  : — 

Sir  Rowland  Harpur. 

Plausible. 

Capt.  Harry  Plausible. 

Freeman. 

Old  Teazle.*  {Left  off  trade,) 

Mrs.  Teazle. 

Maria. 

♦ The  first  intention  was,  as  appears  from  his  introductory  speech,  to  give  Old  Teazle 
the  Christian  name  of  Solomon.  Sheridan  was,  indeed,  most  fastidiously  changeful  in 
his  names.  The  present  Clearies  Surface  was  at  first  Clerimont,  tfien  Florival,  then  Cap- 
tain Harry  Plausible,  then  Harry  Pliant  or  Pliable,  then  Young  Harrier,  and  then  Frank 
— while  his  elder  brother  was  successively  Plausible,  Pliable,  Young  Pliant,  Tom,  and, 
lastly,  Joseph  Surface.  Trip  was  originally  called  Spuiige  ; the  name  of  l?nake  was  m 
the  earlier  sketch  Spatter,  and,  even  after  the  union  of  the  two  plots  into  one,  all  the 
business  of  the  opening  scene  with  Lady  Sneerwell,  at  present  transacted  by  Snake,  was 
given  to  a character  afterwards  wholly  oniiUed,  Miss  Verjuice. 


BIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  149 


From  this  list  of  the  personages  we  may  conclude  that  the 
quarrels  of  Old  Teazle  and  his  wife,  the  attachment  between 
Maria  and  one  of  the  Plausibles,  and  the  intrigue  of  Mrs.  Tea- 
zle with  the  other,  formed  the  sole  materials  of  the  piece,  as  then 
(.onstructed.*  There  is  reason  too  to  believe,  from  the  follow- 
ing memorandum,  which  occurs  in  various  shapes  through  these 
manuscripts,  that  the  device' of  the  screen  was  not  yet  thought 
of,  and  that  the  discovery  was  to  be  effected  in  a very  different 
manner — 

“ Making  Icve  to  aunt  and  niece — meeting  ^vrong  in  the  dark — some  one 
coming — locks  up  the  aunt,  thinking  it  to  be  the  niece.’^ 

I shall  now  give  a scene  or  two  from  the  Second  Sketch — 
which  shows,  perhaps,  even  more  strikingly  thigi  the  other,  the 
volatilizing  and  condensing  process  which  his  wit  must  have  gone 
through,  before  it  attained  its  present  proof  and  flavor. 

‘^ACT  I. — Scene  I. 

“ Old  Teazle  alone. 

In  the  year  44  I married  my  first  wife  ; the  wedding  was  at  the  end 
of  the  year — aye,  ’twas  in  December  ; yet,  before  Ann.  Dom.  45, 1 repent- 
ed. A month  before  we  swore  we  preferred  each  other  to  the  whole  world 
— perhaps  we  spoke  truth  ; but,  when  we  came  to  promise  to  love  each 
other  till  death,  there  I am  sure  we  lied.  Well,  Fortune  owed  me  a good 
turn  ; in  48  she  died.  Ah,  silly  Solomon,  in  52  I find  thee  married  again  ! 
Here,  too,  is  a catalogue  of  ills — Thomas,  Imrn  February  12  : Jane  born 
Jan.  6 ; so  they  go  on  to  the  number  of  five.  However,  by  death  I stand 
credited  but  by  one.  Well,  Margery,  rest  her  soul ! was  a queer  creature  ; 
when  she  was  gone,  I felt  awkward  at  first  and  being  sensiijle  that  wishes 
availed  nothing,  I often  wished  for  her  return.  For  ten  years  more  I kept 
my  senses  and  lived  single.  Oh,  blockhead,  dolt  Solomon ! Within  this 
twelvemonth  thou  art  married  again — married  to  a woman  thirty  years 
younger  than  thyself ; a fashionable  woman.  Yet  I took  her  with  cau- 
tion ; she  had  been  educated  in  the  country  ; but  now  she  has  more  ex- 
travagance than  the  daughter  of  an  earl,  more  levity  than  a Countess. 
What  a defect  it  is  in  our  laws,  that  a man  who  has  once  been  branded  in 
the  forehead  should  be  hanged  for  the  second  offence. 

* This  was  most  probably  the  two  act  Comedy,”  which  he  announced  to  Mr.  Linley  as 
preparing  for  representation  in  1775. 


150 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Enter  Jarvls. 

“ Who’s  there  ? Well,  Jarvis? 

Jarv.  Sir,  there  are  a number  of  my  mistress’s  tradesmen  without, 
clamorous  for  their  money. 

Teaz.  Are  those  their  bills  in  your  hand  ? 

‘‘  Jarv.  Something  about  a twentieth  part.  Sir. 

Teaz.  What ! have  you  expended  the  hundred  pounds  I gave  you  for 
her  use  ? 

Jarv.  Long  ago,  Sir,  as  you  may  judge  by  some  of  the  items : — • Paid 
the  coach-maker  for  lowering  the  front  seat  of  the  coach.’ 

Ttaz.  What  the  deuce  was  the  matter  with  the  seat? 

Jarv.  Oh  Lord,  the  carriage  was  too  low  for  her  by  a foot  when  she  was 
dressed— so  that  it  must  have  been  so,  or  have  had  a tub  at  top  like  a hat- 
case  on  a travelling  trunk.  Well,  Sir,  {reads.)  ^ Paid  her  two  footmen 
half  a year’s  waggs,  50^.’ 

Teaz.  ’Sdeath  and  fury!  does  she  give  her  footmen  a hundred  a year? 

‘‘  Jarv.  Yes,  Sir,  and  I think,  indeed,  she  has  rather  made  a good  bargain, 
for  they  find  their  own  bags  and  bouquets. 

Teaz.  Bags  and  bouquets  for  footmen  1 — halters  and  bastinadoes  1* 

‘‘  Jarv.  ‘ Paid  for  my  lady’s  own  nosegays,  50/.’ 

Teaz.  Fifty  pounds  for  flowers ! enough  to  turn  the  Pantheon  into  a 
green-house,  and  give  a Fete  Champetre  at  Christmas. 

\Lady  Teaz.  Lord,  Sir  Peter,  I wonder  you  should  grudge  me  the  most 
innocent  articles  in  dress — and  then  for  the  expense — flowers  cannot  be 
cheaper  in  winter— you  should  find  fault  with  the  climate,  and  not  with  me. 
I am  sure  I wish  with  all  my  heart,  that  it  "was  Spring  all  the  year  round, 
and  that  roses  grew  under  one’s  feet. 

‘‘  Bir  P.  Nay,  but,  madam,  then  you  would  not  wear  them ; but  try 
snowballs  and  icicles.  But  tell  me,  madam,  how-  can  you  feel  any  satisfac- 

* Transferred  afterwards  to  Trip  and  Sir  Oliver. 

f We  observe  here  a change  in  his  plan,  with  respect  both  to  the  titles  of  Old  Teazle 
and  his  wife,  and  the  presence  of  the  latter  d ;ring  this  scene,  which  was  evidently  not  at 
first  intended. 

From  the  following  skeleton  of  the  scenes  o this  piece  it  would  appear  that  (inconsis- 
tently, in  some  degree,  with  my  notion  of  its  oeing  the  two  act  Comedy  announced  m 
1775)  he  had  an  idea  of  extending  the  plot  through  five  acts 

“Act  1st,  Scene  1st,  Sir  Peter  and  Steward — 2d,  Sir  P.  and  Lady — then  Young  Pliable. 

“ Act2d,  Sir  P.  and  Lady — ^Young  Harrier — Sir  P.  and  Sir  Rowland,  and  Old  Jeremy — 
Sir  R.  and  Daughter — Y.  P.  and  Y.  H. 

“Act  3d,  Sir  R.,  Sir  P.  and  0.  J. — 2d,  Y.  P.  and  Company,  Y.  R.  0,  R. — 3d,  Y.  H.  and 
Maria — Y.  H.,  0.  R.  and  Young  Harrier,  to  borrow. 

“Act  4lh,  Y.  P.  and  Maria,  to  borrow  his  money ; gets  away  what  he  had  receiv®< 
from  his  uncle — Y.  P.  Old  Jer.  and  tradesmer  — p.  and  Lady  T.’^  &c.  &c. 


EIGHT  HON.  EIOHAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  151 

tion  in  wearing  these,  when  you  might  reflect  that  one  of  the  rose-buds 
would  have  furnished  a poor  family  with  a dinner  ? 

Lady  T.  Upon  my  word,  Sir  Peter,  begging  your  pardon,  that  is  a 
very  absurd  way  of  arguing.  By  that  rule,  why  do  you  indulge  in  the 
least  superfluity?  I dare  swear  a beggar  might  dine  tolerably  on  your 
great-coat,  or  sup  off  your  laced  waistcoat — nay,  I dare  say,  he  wouldn’t 
eat  your  gold-headed  cane  in  a week.  Indeed,  if  you  would  reserve  nothing 
but  necessaries,  you  should  give  the  first  poor  man  you  meet  your  wig,  and 
walk  the  streets  in  your  night-cap,  which,  you  know,  becomes  you  very 
much. 

Sir  P.  Well,  go  on  to  the  articles. 

* “ Jarv.  {Reading.)  .‘  Fruit  for  my  lady’s  monkey,  51.  per  week.’ 

“ Sir  P.  Five  pounds  for  a monkey ! — why  ’tis  a dessert  for  an  alderman ! 

Lady  T.  Why,  Sir  Peter,  would  you  starve  the  poor  animal  ? I dare 
swear  he  lives  as  reasonably  as  other  monkeys  do. 

Sir  P.  Well,  well,  go  on. 

“ Jarv.  ‘ China  for  ditto’ — 

Sir  P.  What,  does  he  eat  out  of  china  ? 

Lady  T.  Repairing  china  that  he  breaks — and  I am  sure  no  monkey 
breaks  less. 

“ Jarv.  ‘ Paid  Mr.  Warren  for  perfumes— milk  of  roses,  30Z.’ 

Lady  T.  Very  reasonable. 

“ Sir  P.  ’Sdeath,  madam,  if  you  had  been  born  to  these  expenses  I should 
not  have  been  so  much  amazed  ; but  I took  you,  madam,  an  honest  coun- 
try squire’s  daughter — 

“ Lady  T.  Oh,  filthy  ; don’t  name  it.  Well,  heaven  forgive  my  mother, 
but  I do  believe  my  father  must  have  been  a man  of  quality. 

Sir  P.  Yes,  madam,  when  first  I saw  you,  you  were  dressed  in  a pretty 
figured  linen  gown,  with  a bunch  of  keys  by  your  side  ; your  occupations, 
madam,  to  superintend  the  poultry  ; your  accomplishments,  a complete 
knowledge  of  the  family  receipt-book — then  you  satin  a room  hung  round 
with  fruit  in  worsted  of  your  own  working ; your  amusements  were  to 
play  country-dances  on  an  old  spinnet  to  your  father  while  he  went  asleep 
after  a fox-chase — to  read  Tillotson’s  sermons  to  your  aunt  Deborah.  These, 
madam,  were  your  recreations,  and  these  the  accomplishments  that  capti- 
vated me.  Now,  forsooth,  you  must  have  two  footmen  to  your  chair,  and 
a pair  of  white  dogs  in  a phaeton ; you  forget  when  you  used  to  ride 

double  behind  the  butler  on  a docked  bay  coach-horse Now  you 

must  have  a French  hair-dresser  ; do  you  think  you  did  not  look  as  well 

when  you  had  your  hair  combed  smooth  over  a roller? Then  you 

could  be  content  to  sit  with  me,  or  walk  by  the  side  of  the — Ha  ! Ha  I 

Lady  T.  True^  I did  ; and,  when  you  asked  me  if  I could  love  an  old 
fellow,  who  would  deny  me  nothing,  I simpered  and  said  ‘ Till  death.’ 


152 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Sir  P.  AVhy  did  you  say  so  ? 

Lady  T.  Shall  I tell  you  the  truth? 

“ Sir  P,  If  it  is  not  too  great  a favor. 

Lady  T.  .Why,  then,  the  truth  is,  I was  heartily  tired  of  all  these  agree* 
able  recreations  you  have  so  well  remembered,  and  having  a spirit  to  spend 
and  enjoy  fortune,  I was  determined  to  marry  the  first  fool  I should  meet 


with you  made  me  a wife,  for  which  I am  much  obliged  to  you,  and 

if  you  have  a wish  to  make  me  more  grateful  still,  make  me  a widow.”* 

* * 4;  * * * * 


Sir  P,  Then,  you  never  had  a desire  to  please  me,  or  add  to  my  hap- 
piness ? 

Lady  T Sincerely,  I never  thought  about  you  ; did  you  imagine  tlifct 
age  was  catching?  I think  you  have  been  overpaid  for  all  you  could  be- 
stow on  me.  Here  am  I surrounded  by  half  a hundred  lovers,  not  one  of 
whom  but  would  buy  a single  smile  by  a thousand  such  baubles  as  you 
grudge  me. 

Sir  P.  Then  you  wish  me  dead  ? 

Lady  T,  You  know  I do  not,  for  you  have  made  no  settlement  on  me. 
* *****  ♦ 

Sir  P,  I am  but  middle-aged. 

‘‘  Lady  T.  There’s  the  misfortune  ; put  yourself  on,  or  back,  twenty 
years,  and  either  way  I should  like  you  the  better. 

* *****  * 

Yes,  sir,  and  then  your  behavior  too  was  different ; you  would  dress,  and 
smile,  and  bow  ; fiy  to  fetch  me  anything  I wanted  ; praise  every  thing  I did 
or  said  : fatigue  your  stiff  face  with  an  eternal  grin  ; nay,  you  even  com- 
mitted poetry,  and  muffled  your  harsh  tones  into  a lover’s  whisper  to  sing 
it  yourself,  so  that  even  my  mother  said  you  were  the  smartest  old  bachelor 
she  ever  saw — a billet-doux  engrossed  on  buckram  !!!!!!  f 

* * * * * * * 

Let  girls  take  my  advice  and  never  marry  an  old  bachelor.  He  must  be 
so  either  because  he  could  find  nothing  to  love  in  women,  or  because  wo- 
men could  find  nothing  to  love  in  him.” 

The  greater  part  of  this  dialogue  is  evidently  experimental^ 
and  the  play  of  repartee  protracted  with  no  other  view,  than  to 
take  the  chance  of  a trump  of  wit  or  humor  turning  up. 

In  comparing  the  two  characters  in  this  sketch  with  what  they 
are  at  present,  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck  by  the  signal 

* The  speeches  which  T have  omitted  consist  merely  of  repetitions  of  the  same  thoughts, 
with  but  very  little  variation  of  the  language. 

t Tiiese  notes  of  admiration  are  in  the  original,  and  seem  meant  to  express  the  surprh»e 
of  the  aullior  at  the  extravagance  of  his  own  .ioke. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  153 


change  that  they  have  undergone.  The  transformation  of  Sir  Pe- 
ter into  a gentleman  has  refmed,  without  weakening,  the  ridicule  of 
his  situation ; and  there  is  an  interest  created  by  the  respecta- 
bility, a :d  amiableness  of  his  sentiments,  which,  contrary  to  the 
effect  produced  in  general  by  elderly  gentlemen  so  circumstanced,, 
makes  us  rejoice,  at  the  end,  that  he  has  his  young  wife  all  to 
himself.  The  improvement  in  the  character  of  Lady  Teazle  is 
still  more  marked  and  successful.  Instead  of  an  ill-bred  young 
shrew,  whose  readiness  to  do  wrong  leaves  the  mind  in  but  little 
uncertainty  as  to  her  fate,  we  have  a lively  and  innocent,  though 
imprudent  country  girl,  transplanted  into  the  midst  of  all  that 
can  bewilder  and  endanger  her,  but  with  still  enough  of  the  pu- 
rity of  rural  life  about  her  heart,  to  keep  the  blight  of  the  world 
from  settling  upon  it  permanently. 

There  is  indeed  in  the  original  draught  a degree  of  glare  and 
coarseness,  which  proves  the  eye  of  the  artist  to  have  been  fresh 
from  the  study  of  Wycherly  and  Vanbrugh;  and  this  want  of 
delicacy  is  particularly  observable  in  the  subsequent  scene  be- 
tween Lady  Teazle  and  Surface — the  chastening  down  of  which 
to  its  present  tone  is  not  the  least  of  those  triumphs  of  taste  and 
skill,  which  every  step  in  the  elaboration  of  tliis  Comedy  ex- 
hibits. 

Scene* — Young  Pliant’s  Room. 

“ Young  P.  I wonder  her  ladyship  is  not  here  : she  promised  me  to  call 
this  morning.  I have  a hard  game  to  play  here,  to  pursue  my  designs  on 
Maria.  I have  brought  myself  into  a scrape  with  the  mother-in-law.  How- 
ever, I think  we  have  taken  care  to  ruin  my  brother’s  character  witli  my 
uncle,  should  he  come  to-morrow.  Frank  has  not  an  ill  quality  in  his  na- 
ture ; yet,  a neglect  of  forms,  and  of  the  opinion  of  the  world,  has  hurt  him 
in  the  estimation  of  all  his  graver  friends.  I have  profited  by  his  errors, 
and  contrived  to  gain  a character,  which  now  serves  me  as  a mask  to  lie 
under. 

Enter  Lady  Teazle. 

Lady  T.  What,  musing,  or  thinking  of  me  ? 

“ Young  P.  I was  thinking  unkindly  of  you ; do  you  know  now  that 
you  must  repay  me  for  this  delay,  or  I must  be  coaxed  into  good  humor  ? 

* The  Third  of  the  fourth  Act  in  the  present  form  of  the  Comedy.  Tliis  scene  under- 
went many  changes  afterwards,  and  was  oftener  put  back  into  the  crucible  than  any 
other  part  of  the  pla 

VOL.  I. 


7* 


154 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Lady  T.  Nay^  in  faith  you  should  pity  me — this  old  curmudgeon  of  late 
is  growing  so  jealous,  that  I dare  scarce  go  out,  till  I know  he  is  secure  for 
some  time. 

Young  P,  I am  afraid  the  insinuations  we  have  had  spread  about  Frank 
have  operated  too  strongly  on  him — we  meant  only  to  direct  his  suspi- 
cions to  a wrong  object. 

Lady  T.  Oh,  hang  him ! I have  told  him  plainly  that  if  he  continues  to 
be  so  suspicious.  I’ll  leave  him  entirely,  and  make  him  allow  me  a sepa- 
rate maintenance. 

‘‘  Young  P,  But,  my  charmer,  if  ever  that  should  be  the  case,  you  see 
before  you  the  man  who  will  ever  be  attached  to  you.  But  you  must  not 
let  matters  come  to  extremities  ; you  can  never  be  revenged  so  well  by 
leaving  him,  as  by  living  with  him,  and  let  my  sincere  affection  make 
amends  for  his  brutality. 

“ Ijady  T.  But  how  shall  I be  sure  now  that  you  are  sincere?  I have 
sometimes  suspected  that  you  loved  my  niece.* 

“ Young  P.  Oh,  hang  her,  a puling  idiot,  without  sense  or  spirit. 

Lady  T.  But  what  proofs  have  I of  your  love  to  me,  for  I have  still  so 
much  of  my  country  prejudices  left,  that  if  I were  to  dO'  a foolish  thing 
(and  I think  I can’t  promise)  it  shall  be  for  a man  who  would  risk  every 
thing  for  me  alone.  How  shall  I be  sure  you  love  me  ? 

Young  P,  I have  dreamed  of  you  every  night  this  week  past. 

Lady  T,  That’s  a sign  you  have  slept  every  night  for  this  week  past ; 
for  my  part,  I would  not  give  a pin  for  a lover  who  could  not  wake  for  a 
month  in  absence. 

“ Young  P,  1 have  written  verses  on  you  out  of  number. 

Lady  T.  I never  saw  any. 

“ Young  P.  No — they  did  not  please  me,  and  so  I tore  them. 

“ Lady  T.  Then  it  seems  you  wrote  them  only  to  divert  yourself. 

“ Young  P.  Am  I doomed  for  ever  to  suspense  ? 

Lady  T.  I don’t  know — ^if  I was  convinced 

Young  P.  Then  let  me  on  my  knees 

Ijady  T.  Nay,  nay,  I will  have  no  raptures  either.  This  much  I can  tell 
you,  that  if  I am  to  be  seduced  to  do  wrong,  I am  not  to  be  taken  by  storift, 
but  by  deliberate  capitulation,  and  that  only  where  my  reason  or  my  heart 
is  convinced. 

Young  P.  Then,  to  say  it  at  once— the  world  gives  itself  liberties 

Lady  T Nay,  I am  sure  without  cause  ; for  I am  as  yet  unconscious  of 
any  ill,  though  I know  not  what  I may  be  forced  to. 

Young  P.  The  fact  is,  my  dear  Lady  Teazle,  that  your  extreme  inno- 

♦ He  had  not  yet  decided  whether  to  make  Maria  the  daughter-in-law  or  niece  of  Lady 
Teazle. 


BIGHT  HON.  KICHAEI)  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  155 


cence  is  the  very  cause  of  your  danger  ; it  is  the  integrity  of  your  heart 
that  makes  you  run  into  a thousand  imprudences  which  a full  conscious- 
ness of  error  would  make  you  guard  against.  Now,  in  that  case,  you  canH 
conceive  how  much  more  circumspect  you  would  be. 

Lady  T.  Do  you  think  so  ? 

Young  P.  Most  certainly.  Your  character  is  like  a person  in  a ple- 
thora, absolutely  dying  of  too  much  health. 

Lady  T.  So  then  you  would  have  me  sin  in  my  own  defence,  and  part 
with  my  virtue  to  preserve  my  reputation.* 

Young  P.  Exactly  so,  upon  my  credit,  ma’am.’’  * 

**♦**♦♦ 

It  will  be  observed,  from  all  I have  cited,  that  much  of  the 
original  material  is  still  preserved  throughout ; but  that,  like  the 
ivory  melting  in  the  hands  of  Pygmalion,  it  has  lost  all  its  first 
rigidity  and  roughness,  and,  assuming  at  every  touch  some  va- 
riety of  aspect,  seems  to  have  gained  new  grace  by  every  change. 

‘‘  Mollescit  ehur,  positoque  rigore 
Subsidit  digitis,  ceditque  ui  Hymettia  sole 
Cera  remollescit,  tractataque  pollice  multas 
Flectitur  in  facies^  ipsoque  Jit  utilis  usuP 

Where’er  his  fingers  move  his  eye  can  trace 
The  once  rude  ivory  softening  into  grace — 

Pliant  as  wax  that,  on  Hymettus’  hill. 

Melts  in  the  sunbeam,  it  obeys  his  skill ; 

At  every  touch  some  different  aspect  shows, 

And  still,  the  oftener  touch’d  the  lovelier  grows. 

I need  not,  I think,  apologize  for  the  length  of  the  extracts  I 
have  given,  as  they  cannot  be  otherwise  than  interesting  to  all 
lovers  of  literary  history.  To  trace  even  the  mechanism  of  an 
author’s  style  through  the  erasures  and  alterations  of  his  rough 
copy,  is,  in  itself,  no  ordinary  gratification  of  curiosity  ; and  the 
hrouillon  of  Rousseau’s  Ileloise,  in  the  library  of  the  Chamber  Ox 
Deputies  at  Paris,  afibrds  a study  in  which  more  than  the  mere 
auceps  syllabarum”  might  delight.  But  it  is  still  more  inter- 

♦ This  sentence  seems  to  have  haunted  him — I find  it  written  in  every  direction,  and 
without  any  material  change  in  its  form,  over  the  pages  of  his  different  memorandum 
books. 


156 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


esting  to  follow  thus  the  course  of  a writer’s  thoughts — to  watch 
the  kindling  of  new  fancies  as  he  goes— to  accompany  him  in  his 
change  of  plans,  and  see  the  various  vistas  that  open  upon  him 
at  every  step.  It  is,  indeed,  like  being  admitted  by  some  magical 
power,  to  witness  the  mysterious  processes  of  the  natural  world 
— to  see  the  crystal  forming  by  degrees  round  its  primitive  nu 
cleus,  or  observe  the  slow  ripening  of 

♦ the  imperfect  ore, 

“ And  know  it  will  be  gold  another  day  f ^ 

In  respect  of  mere  style,  too,  the  workmanship  of  so  pure  a 
writer  of  English  as  Sheridan  is  well  worth  the  attention  of  all 
who  would  learn  the  difficult  art  of  combining  ease  with  polish, 
and  being,  at  the  same  time,  idiomatic  and  elegant.  There  is 
not  a page  of  these  manuscripts  that  does  not  bear  testimony  to 
the  fastidious  care  with  which  he  selected,  arranged,  and  moulded 
his  language,  so  as  to  form  it  into  that  transparent  channel  of  his 
thoughts,  which  it  is  at  present. 

His  chief  objects  in  correcting  were  to  condense  and  simplify 
— to  get  rid  of  all  unnecessary  phrases  and  epithets,  and,  in  short, 
to  strip  away  from  tl^e  thyrsus  of  his  wit  every  leaf  that  could 
render  it  less  light  and  portable.  One  instance  out  of  many 
will  show  the  improving  effect  of  these  operations."^  The  follow- 
ing is  the  original  form  of  a speech  of  Sir  Peter’s : — 

People  who  utter  a tale  of  scandal,  knowing  it  to  be  forged,  deserve 
the  pillory  more  than  for  a forged  bank-note.  They  can’t  pass  the  lie 
without  putting  their  names  on  the  back  of  it.  You  say  no  person  has  a 
right  to  come  on  you  because  you  didn’t  invent  it ; but  you  should  know 
that,  if  the  drawer  of  the  lie  is  out  of  the  way,  the  injured  party  has  a 
right  to  come  on  any  of  the  indorsers.” 

When  this  is  compared  with  the  form  in  which  the  same 

* Tn  one  or  two  sentences  he  has  left  a degree  of  slilfnessin  the  style,  not  so  much  from 
inadvertence  as  from  the  sacrifice  of  ease  to  point.  Thus,  in  the  following  example,  he 
has  been  tempted  by  an  antithesis  into  an  inversion  of  phrase  by  no  means  idiomatic. 
“The  plain  slate  of  the  matter  is  this — I am  an  extravagant  young  fellow  ivho  want 
money  to  borrow;  you,  I lake  to  be  a prudent  old  fellow  who  have  got  money  to  lend.’’ 

In  the  Collection  of  his  Works  this  phrase  is  given  differently — but  without  authority 
from  Tny  of  the  manuscript  copies. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  lo? 


thought  is  put  at  present,  it  will  be  perceived  how  much  the  wit 
has  gained  in  lightness  and  effect  by  the  change : — 

Mrs.  Candor.  But  sure  you  would  not  be  quite  so  severe  on  those  who 
only  report  what  they  hear  ? 

‘‘  Sir  P.  Yes,  madam,  I would  have  Law-merchant  for  them  too,  and  in 
all  cases  of  slanoer  currency,*  whenever  the  drawer  of  the  lie  was  not  to 
be  found,  the  injured  party  should  have  a right  to  come  on  any  of  the 
indorsers.” 

Another  great  source  of  the  felicities  of  his  style,  and  to  which 
he  attended  most  anxiously  in  revision,  was  the  choice  of  epi- 
thets ; in  which  he  has  the  happy  art  of  making  these  accessary 
words  not  only  minister  to  the  clearness  of  his  meaning,  but 
bring  out  new  effects  in  his  wit  by  the  collateral  lights  which 
they  strike  upon  it — and  even  where  the  principal  idea  has  but 
little  significance,  he  contrives  to  enliven  it  into  point  by  the 
quaintness  or  contrast  of  his  epithets. 

Among  the  many  rejected  scraps  of  dialogue  that  lie  about, 
like  the  chippings  of  a Phidias,  in  this  workshop  of  wit,  there 
are  some  precious  enough  to  be  preserved,  at  least,  as  relics. 
For  instance, — “ She  is  one  of  those,  who  convey  a libel  in  a 
frown,  and  wink  a reputation  down.’'  The  following  touch  of 
costume,  too,  in  Sir  Peter’s  description  of  the  rustic  dress  of 
Lady  Teazle  before  he  married  her  : — ‘‘  You  forget  when  a little 
wire  and  gauze,  with  a few  beads,  made  you  a fly-cap  not  much 
bigger  than  a blue-bottle.” 

The  specimen  which  Sir  Benjamin  Backbite  gives  of  his  poeti- 
cal talents  was  taken,  it  will  be  seen,  from  the  following  verses, 
which  I find  in  Mr.  Sheridan's  hand-writing — one  of  those  trifles, 
perhaps,  with  which  he  and  his  friend  Tickell  were  in  the  constant 
habit  of  amusing  themselves,  and  written  apparently  with  the 
'atien  of  ridiculing  some  woman  of  fashion  : — 

Then  behind,  all  my  hair  is  done  up  in  ^plat. 

And  so,  like  a cornet’s,  tuck’d  under  my  hat. 

♦ Then  is  another  simile  among  his  memorandums  of  the  same  mercantile  kind . 
‘ A aoit  of  broker  L scandal,  who  trans'ers  lies  without  fees.’’  « 


158 


MEMomS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Then  I moun  on  my  palfrey  as  gay  as  a lark, 

And,  follow’d  by  John,  take  the  dust*  in  High  Pa’*k. 

In  the  way  I am  met  by  some  smart  macaroni, 

Who  rides  by  my  side  on  a little  bay  poney — 

No  sturdy  Hibernian,  with  shoulders  so  wide, 

But  as  taper  and  slim  as  the  ponies  they  ride  ; 

Their  legs  are  as  slim,  and  their  shoulders  no  wider, 

Dear  sweet  little  creatures,  both  poney  and  rider  i 

But  sometimes,  w^hen  hotter,  I order  my  chaise, 

And  manage,  myself,  my  two  little  grays. 

Sure  never  were  seen  two  such  sweet  little  ponies. 

Other  horses  are  clowns,. and  these  macaronies. 

And  to  give  them  this  title.  I'm  sure  isn’t  wong, 

Their  legs  are  so  slim,  and  their  tails  are  so  long. 

In  Kensington  Gardens  to  stroll  up  and  down, 

You  know  was  the  fashion  before  you  left  town, — 

The  thing’s  well  enough,  when  allowance  is  made 
For  the  size  of  the  trees  and  the  depth  of  the  shade, 

But  the  spread  of  their  leaves  such  a shelter  affords 
To  those  noisy,  impertinent  creatures  called  birds, 

Whose  ridiculous  chirruping  ruins  the  scene. 

Brings  the  country  before  me,  and  gives  me  the  spleen. 

Yet,  tho’  ’tis  too  rural — to  come  near  the  mark, 

We  all  herd  in  one  walk,  and  that,  nearest  the  Park. 

There  with  ease  we  may  see,  as  we  pass  by  the  wicket. 

The  chimneys  of  Knightsbridge  and — footmen  at  cricket 
I must  tho’,  injustice,  declare  that  the  grass. 

Which,  worn  by  our  feet,  is  diminished  apace. 

In  a little  time  more  will  be  brown  and  as  flat 
As  the  sand  at  Yauxhall  or  as  Ranelagh  mat. 

Improving  thus  fast,  perhaps,  by  degrees. 

We  may  see  rolls  and  butter  spread  under  the  trees. 

With  a small  pretty  band  in  each  seat  of  the  walk. 

To  play  little  tunes  and  enliven  our  talk.” 

Though  Mr.  Sheridan  appears  to  have  made  more  easy  pro- 
gress, after  he  had  incorporated  his  two  first  plots  into  one,  yet, 
even  in  the  details  of  tlie  new  plan,  considerable  alterations  were 


* This  phrase  is  made  use  of  in  the  dialogue  : — “As  Lady  Betty  Curricle  was  taking  Lie 
iust  in  Hyde  Park.” 


Uiam  HOK.  richaUd  brInsL^y  sheridan.  159 

subsequently  made — whole  scenes  suppressed  or  transposed,  and 
the  dialogue  of  some  entirely  re-written.  In  the  third  Act,  for 
instance,  as  it  originally  stood,  there  was  a long  scene,  in  which 
Rowley,  by  a minute  examination  of  Snake,  drew  from  him,  in 
the  presence  of  Sir  Oliver  and  Sir  Peter,  a full  confession  of  his 
designs‘**‘against  the  reputation  of  Lady  Teazle.  Nothing  could 
be  more  ill-placed  and  heavy  ; it  was  accordingly  cancelled,  and 
the  confession  of  Snake  postponed  to  its  natural  situation,  the 
conclusion.  The  scene,  too,  where  Sir  Oliver,  as  Old  Stanley, 
comes  to  ask  pecuniary  aid  of  Joseph,  was  at  first  wholly  different 
from  what  it  is  at  present ; and  in  some  parts  approached  much 
nearer  to  the  confines  of  caricature  than  the  watchful  taste  of 
Mr»  Sheridan  would  permit.  For  example,  Joseph  is  represented 
in  it  as  giving  the  old  suitor  only  half-a-guinea,  which  the  latter 
indignantly  returns,  and  leaves  him ; upon  which  Joseph,  look- 
ing at  the  half-guinea,  exclaims,  “ Well,  let  him  starve — this  will 
do  for  the  opera.” 

It  was  the  fate  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  through  life, — and,  in  a great 
degree,  perhaps,  his  policy, — to  gain  credit  for  excessive  indo- 
lence and  carelessness,  while  few  persons,  with  so  much  natural 
brilliancy  of  talents,  ever  employed  more  art  and  circumspec- 
tion in  their  display.  This  was  the  case,  remarkably,  in  the  in- 
stance before  us.  Notwithstanding  the  labor  which  he  bestowed 
upon  this  comedy,  (or  we  should  rather,  perhaps,  say  in  conse- 
quence of  that  labor,)  the  first  representation  of  the  piece  was 
announced  before  the  whole  of  the  copy  was  in  the  hands 
of  the  actors.  The  manuscript,  indeed,  of  the  five  last  scenes 
bears  evident  marks  of  this  haste  in  finishing,. — there  being  but 
one  rough  draught  of  them  scribbled  upon  detached  pieces  of 
paper;  while,  of  all  the  preceding  acts,  there  are  numerous 
transcripts,  scattered  promiscuously  through  six  or  seven  books, 
with  new  interlineations  and  memorandums  to  each.  On  the 
last  leaf  of  all,  which  exists  just  as  we  may  suppose  it  to  have 
been  despatched  by  him  to  the  copyist,  there  is  the  following 
curious  specimen  of  doxology,  written  hastily,  in  the  hand- wri- 
ting of  the  respective  parties,  at  the  bottom  ; — 


160 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


“ Finished  at  last.  Thank  God  ! 
‘‘  Amen ! 


“ R.  B.  Sheridan.” 
‘‘  W.  Hopkins.”* 


The  cast  of  the  play,  on  the  first  ntght  of  representation  (May 
8,  1777),  was  as  follows : — 


Sir  Peter  Teazle 

, 

Mr,  King, 

Sir  Oliver  Surface 

Mr,  Yates, 

Joseph  Surface 

Mr,  Palmer, 

Charles 

Mr,  Smith, 

Crabtree 

Mr,  Parsons, 

Sir  Benjamin  Backbite 

Mr,  Dodd, 

Kowley 

Mr,  Aickin, 

Moses 

Mr.  Baddeley, 

Trip 

Mr,  Lamash, 

Snake 

Mr.  Packer, 

Careless 

Mr,  Barren, 

Sir  Harry  Bumper  . 

Mr.  Gawdry. 

Lady  Teazle  . 

Mrs.  Ahington. 

Maria 

Miss  P.  Hopkins 

Lady  Sneerwell 

Miss  Sherry. 

Mrs.  Candor 

Miss  Pope, 

The  success  of  such  a play,  so  acted,  could  not  be  doubtful. 
Long  after  its  first  uninterrupted  run,  it  continued  to  be  played 
regularly  two  or  three  times  a week  ; and  a comparison  of  the 
receipts  of  the  first  twelve  nights,  with  those  of  a later  period, 
will  show  how  little  the  attraction  of  the  piece  had  abated  by 
repetition  : — 


, 1777. 

£, 

«. 

d. 

School  for  Scandal  . 

. 225 

9 

0 

Ditto  .... 

. 195 

6 

0 

Ditto  A.  B.  (Author’s  night) 

73 

10 

0 (Expenses) 

Ditto  .... 

. 257 

4 

6 

Ditto  .... 

. 243 

0 

0 

Ditto  A.  B. 

. 73 

10 

0 

Committee  . . . . 

66 

6 

6 

School  for  Scandal 

. 262 

19 

6 

♦ Tlie  Prompts, 


EIGHT  HON.  EICHAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  161 


Ditto 

Ditto  A.  B 

Ditto  K.  (the  Eling) 

Ditto 

Ditto 


263  13  6 
73  10  0 
272  9 6 
247  15  0 
255  14  0 


The  following  extracts  are  taken  at  hazard  from  an  account  of 
the  weekly  receipts  of  the  Theatre,  for  the  year  1778,  kept  with 
txainplary  neatness  and  care  by  Mrs.  Sheridan  herself 


1778. 

£ s. 

January  3d.  Twelfth  Night  . 

. Queen  Mab 

. 139  14 

5th.  Macbeth  . 

. Queen  Mab 

. 212  19 

6th.  Tempest  . 

, Queen  Mab 

. 107  15 

7th.  School  for  Scandal 

. Oomus 

. 292  16 

8th.  School  for  Fathers 

. Queen  Mab 

. 181  10 

9th.  School  for  Scandal 

. Padlock  . 

. 281  6 

March  I4th.  School  for  Scandal 

. Deserter  . 

. 263  18 

16th.  Yenice  Preserved 

. Belphegor  (New)  195  3 

I7th.  Hamlet 

. Belphegor  . 

. 160  19 

19th.  School  for  Scandal 

. Belphegor  . 

. 261  10 

Such,  indeed,  was  the  predominant  attraction  of  this  comedy; 
during  the  two  years  subsequent  to  its  first  appearance,  that,  in 
the  official  account  of  receipts  for  1779,  we  find  the  following 
remark  subjoined  by  the  Treasurer : — “ School  for  Scandal 
damped  the  new  pieces.”  1 have  traced  it  by  the  same  unequiv- 
ocal marks  of  success  through  the  years  1780  and  1781,  and  find 
the  nights  of  its  representation  always  rivalling  those  on  which 
the  King  went  to  the  theatre,  in  the  magnitude  of  their  receipts. 

The  following  note  from  Garrickf  to  the  author,  dated  May 

* It  appears  from  a letter  of  Holcroft  to  Mrs.  Sheridan,  (given  in  his  Memoirs,  vol.  i.  p 
275,)  that  she  was  also  in  the  habit  of  reading  for  Sheridan  the  ne  w pieces  sent  in  by 
dramatic  candidates  : — “ Mrs.  Crewe  (he  says)  has  spoken  to  Mr.  Sheridan  concerning 
it  (the  Shepherdess  of  the  Alps),  as  he  informed  me  last  night,  desiring  me  at  the  same 
time  to  send  it  to  you,  who,  he  said,  would  not  only  read  it  yourself,  but  remind  him  of 
it.’’ 

f Murphy  tells  us  that  Mr.  Garrick  attended  the  rehearsals,  and  “ was  never  known  on  any 
former  occasion  to  be  more  anxious  for  a favorite  piece.  He  was  proud  of  the  new  manager, 
and  in  a triumphant  manner  boasted  of^the  genius  to  whom  he  had  consigned  the  con- 
duct of  the  theatre.” — Life  of  Garrick, 


162 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


12  (four  days  after  the  first  appearance  of  the  comedy),  will  be 
read  with  interest  by  all  those  for  whom  the  great  names  of  the 
drama  have  any  charm  : — 

“ Mr.  Garrick’s  best  wishes  and  compliments  to  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan. 

‘‘  How  is  the  Saint  to-day  '?  A gentleman  who  is  as  mad  as 
myself  about  y®  School  remark’d,  that  the  characters  upon  the 
stage  at  y®  falling  of  the  screen  stand  too  long  before  they  speak  ] 
— ^I-  thou2;ht  so  too  y®  first  night : — he  said  it  was  the  same  on  y® 
2“**,  and  was  remark’d  by  others  ; — tho’  they  should  be  astonish’d^ 
and  a little  petrify’d,  yet  it  may  be  carry’d  to  too  great  a length, 
— All  praise  at  Lord  Lucan’s  last  night.” 

The  beauties  of  this  Comedy  are  so  universally  known  and 
felt,  that  criticism  may  be  spared  the  trouble  of  dwelling  upon 
them  very  minutely.  With  but  little  interest  in  the  plot,  with  no 
very  profound  or  ingenious  development  of  character,  and  with 
a group  of  personages,  not  one  of  whom  has  any  legitimate 
claims  upon  either  our  affection  oi  esteem,  it  yet,  by  the  admirar 
ble  skill  wdth  which  its  materials  are  managed, — the  happy  con 
trivance  of  the  situations,  at  once  both  natural  and  striking, — 
the  fine  feeling  of  the  ridiculous  that  smiles  throughout,  and  that 
perpetual  play  of  wit  which  never  tires,  but  seems,  like  run- 
ning water,  to  be  kept  fresh  by  its  own  flow, — by  all  this  gene- 
ral animation  and  effect,  combined  with  a finish  of  the  details  al 
most  faultless,  it  unites  the  suffrages,  at  once,  of  the  refined  and 
the  simple,  and  is  not  less  successful  in  ministering  to  the  natu 
ral  enjoyment  of  the  latter,  than  in  satisfying  and  delighting  the 
most  fastidious  tastes  among  the  former.  And  tliis  is  the  true 
triumph  of  genius  in  all  the  arts, — whether  in  painting,  sculpture, 
music,  or  literature,  those  works  which  have  pleased  the  greatest 
number  of  people  of  all  classes,  for  the  longest  space  of  time, 
may  without  hesitation  be  pronounced  the  best ; and,  however 
mediocrity  may  enshrine  itself  in  the  admiration  of  the  select 
few,  the  palm  of  excellence  can  only  be  awarded  by  the  many. 

The  defects  of  The  School  for  Scandal,  if  they  can  be  allowed 
to  amount  to  defects,  are,  in  a great  measure,  traceable  to  that 


BIGHT  HON.  RICHARi)  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  163 

amalgamation  of  two  distinct  plots,  out  of  which,  as  I have  al- 
ready shown,  the  piece  was  formed.  From  this  cause, — like  an 
accumulation  of  wealth  from  the  union  of  two  rich  families, — 
has  devolved  that  excessive  opulence  of  wit,  with  which,  as  some 
critics  think,  the  dialogue  is  overloaded ; and  which  Mr.  Sheri- 
oan  himself  used  often  to  mention,  as  a fault  of  which  he  was 
c onscious  in  his  work.  That  he  had  no  such  scruple,  however, 
in  writmg  it,  appears  evident  from  the  pains  which  he  took  to 
str..ng  upon  his  new  plot  every  bright  thought  and  fancy  which 
he  had  brought  together  for  the  two  others ; and  it  is  not  a 
little  curious,  in  turning  over  his  manuscript,  to  see  how  the  out- 
standing jokes  are  kept  in  recollection  upon  the  margin,  till  he 
can  find  some  opportunity  of  funding  them  to  advantage  in  the 
text.  The  consequence  of  all  this  is,  that  the  dialogue,  fi'orn  be- 
ginning to  end,  is  a continued  sparkling  of  polish  and  point : ano 
the  whole  of  the  Dramatis  Personae  might  be  comprised  unde^ 
one  common  designation  of  Wits.  Even  Trip,  the  servant,  s 
as  pointed  and  shining  as  the  rest,  and  has  his  master’s  wit,  as  he 
has  his  birth-day  clothes,  “ with  the  gloss  on.”'^  The  only  pei 
sonage  among  them  that  shows  any  “ temperance  in  jesting,’'  is 
old  Rowley  ; and  he,  too,  in  the  original,  had  his  share  in  the 
general  largess  of  Ion  mots, — one  of  the  liveliest  in  the  piecef  be- 
ing at  first  given  to  him,  though  afterwards  transferred,  with 
somewhat  more  fitness,  to  Sir  Oliver.  In  short,  the  entire  Come- 
dy is  a sort  of  El-Dorado  of  wit,  where  the  precious  metal  is  , 
thrown  about  by  all  classes,  as  carelessly  as  if  they  had  not  the 
least  idea  of  its  value. 

Another  blemish  that  hyper  criticism  has  noticed,  and  which 
may  likewise  be  traced  to  the  original  conformation  of  the  play, 
is  the  uselessness  of  some  of  the  characters  to  the  action  or- 
business  of  it — almost  the  whole  of  the  “ Scandalous  College” 

* This  is  one  of  the  phrases  that  seem  to  have  perplexed  the  taste  of  Sheridan, — and; 
upon  so  minute  a point,  as,  whether  it  should  be  “ with  the  gloss  on,”  or,  “ with  the  gloss 
on  them.”  After  various  trials  of  it  in  both  ways,  he  decided,  as  might  be  expected 
from  his  love  of  idiom,  for  the  former. 

t The  answer  ^o  the  remark,  that  “ charity  begins  at  home,” — “ and  his,  I presume, 

IS  of  tl^t  domestic  sort  which  never  stirs  abroad  at  all.” 


164 


Memoirs  of  the  life  of  tHE 


being  but,  as  it  were,  excrescences,  through  which  none  of  the 
life-blood  of  the  plot  circulates.  The  cause  of  this  is  evident : 
— Sir  Benjamin  Backbite,  in  the  first  plot  to  which  he  belonged, 
was  a principal  personage  ; but,  being  transplanted  from  thence 
into  one  with  which  he  has  no  connection,  not  only  he,  but  his 
uncle  Crabtree,  and  Mrs.  Candor,  though  contributing  abund^^nt- 
ly  to  the  animation  of  the  dialogue,  have  hardly  anything  :o  do 
with  the  advancement  of  the  story  ; and,  like  the  accessories  in 
a Greek  drama,  are  but  as  a sort  of  Chorus  of  Scandal  through- 
out. That  this  defect,  or  rather  peculiarity,  should  have  been 
observed  at  first,  when  criticism  was  freshly  on  the  watch  for 
food,  is  easily  conceivable ; and  I have  been  told  by  a friend, 
who  was  in  the  pit  on  the  first  night  of  performance,  that  a per- 
son, who  sat  near  him,  said  impatiently,  during  the  famous  scene 
at  Lady  Sneerwell’s,  in  the  Second  Act, — “ I wish  these  people 
would  have  done  talking,  and  let  the  play  begin.” 

It  has  often  been  remarked  as  singular,  that  the  lovers,  Charles 
and  Maria,  should  never  be  brought  in  presence  of  each  other 
till  the  last  scene ; and  Mr.  Sheridan  used  to  say,  that  he  was 
aware,  in  writing  the  Comedy,  of  the  apparent  want  of  dramatic 
management  which  such  an  omission  would  betray  ; but  that 
neither  of  the  actors,  for  whom  he  had  destined  those  characters, 
was  such  as  he  could  safely  trust  with  a love  scene.  There 
might,  perhaps,  too,  have  been,  in  addition  to  this  motive,  a lit- 
tle consciousness,  on  his  own  part,  of  not  being  exactly  in  his 
element  in  that  tender  style  of  writing,  which  such  a scene,  to 
make  it  worthy  of  the  rest,  would  have  required  ; and  of  which 
the  specimens  left  us  in  the  serious  parts  of  The  Eivals  are  cer- 
tainly not  among  his  most  felicitous  efibrts. 

By  some  critics  the  incident  of  the  screen  has  been  censured,, 
as  a contrivance  unworthy  of  the  dignity  of  comedy."^  But  in 
real  life,  of  which  comedy  must  condescend  to  be  the  copy, 

* “ In  the  old  comedy,  the  catastrophe  is  occasioned,  in  general,  by  a change  in  the 
mind  of  some  principal  character,  artfully  prepared  and  cautiously  conducted  ; — in  the 
modern,  the  unfolding  of  the  plot  is  effected  by  the  overturning  of  a screen,  the  opening 
^of  a door,  or  some  other  equally  dignified  machine.” — Gifford,  Essay  on  the  Writings  of 
Massinger. 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  165 


events  of  far  greater  importance  are  brought  about  by  accidents 
as  trivial ; and  in  a world  like  ours,  where  the  falling  of  an  ap- 
ple has  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  laws  of  gravitation,  it  is  sure- 
ly too  fistidious  to  deny  to  the  dramatist  the  discovery  of  an 
intrigue  by  the  falling  of  a screen.  There  is  another  objection 
as  to  the  manner  of  employing  this  machine,  which,  though  less 
grave,  is  perhaps  less  easily  answered.  Joseph,  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  scene,  desires  his  servant  to  draw  the  screen 
before  the  wdndow,  becaitse  “ his  opposite  neighbor  is  a maiden 
lady  of  so  anxious  a temper yet,  afterwards,  by  placing  Lady 
Teazle  between  the  screen  and  the  window,  he  enables  this  in- 
quisitive lady  to  indulge  her  curiosity  at  leisure.  It  might  be 
said,  indeed,  that  Joseph,  with  the  alternative  of  exposure  to 
either  the  husband  or  neighbor,  chooses  the  lesser  evil ; — but 
the  oversight  hardly  requires  a defence. 

From  the  trifling  nature  of  these  objections  to  the  dramatic 
merits  of  the  School  for  Scandal,  it  will  be  seen,  that,  like  the 
criticism  of  Momus  on  the  creaking  of  Venus’s  shoes,  they  only 
show  how  perfect  must  be  the  work  in  which  no  greater  fliults 
can  be  found.  But  a more  serious  charge  has  been  brought 
against  it  on  the  score  of  morality,  and  the  gay  charm  thrown 
around  the  irregularities  of  Charles  is  pronounced  to  be  dan- 
gerous to  the  interests  of  honesty  and  virtue.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  in  this  character  only  the  fairer  side  of  libertinism  is 
presented, — that  the  merits  of  being  in  debt  are  rather  too  fond- 
ly insisted  upon,  and  with  a grace  and  spirit  that  might  seduce 
even  creditors  into  admiration.  It  was,  indeed,  playfully  said, 
that  no  tradesman  who  applauded  Charles  could  possibly  have 
the  face  to  dun  the  author  afterwards.  In  looking,  however,  to 
the  race  of  rakes  that  had  previously  held  possession  of  the 
stage,  we  cannot  help  considering  our  release  from  the  contagion 
of  so  much  coarseness  and  selfishness  to  be  worth  even  the  in- 
creased risk  of  seduction  that  may  have  succeeded  to  it ; and 
the  remark  of  Burke,  however  questionable  in  strict  ethics,  is, 
at  least,  true  on  the  stage, — that  ‘‘  vice  loses  half  its  evil  by 
losing  all  its  grossness.” 


166 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


It  should  be  recollected,  too,  that,  in  other  respects,  the  author 
applies  the  lash  of  moral  satire  very  successfully.  That  group 
of  slanderers  who,  like  the  Chorus  of  the  Eumenides,  go  search- 
ing about  for  their  prey  with  “ eyes  that  drop  poison,”  represexit 
a class  of  persons  in  society  who  richly  deserve  such  ridicule, 
and  who — like  their  prototypes  in  ^schylus  trembling  before 
the  shafts  of  Apollo — are  here  made  to  feel  the  full  force  of  the 
archery  of  wit.  It  is  indeed  a proof  of  the  effect  and  use  of  such 
satire,  that  the  name  of  “Mrs.  Candor”  has  become  one  (;f 
those  formidable  bye-w^ords,  which  have  more  power  in  putting 
folly  and  ill-nature  out  of  countenance,  than  whole  volumes  of 
the  wisest  remonstrance  and  reasoning. 

The  poetical  justice  exercised  upon  the  Tartuffe  of  sentiment, 
Joseph,  is  another  service  to  the  cause  of  morals,  which  should 
more  than  atone  for  any  dangerous  embellishment  of  wrong  that 
the  portraiture  of  the  younger  brother  may  exhibit.  Indeed, 
though  both  these  characters  are  such  as  the  moralist  must  visit 
with  his  censure,  there  can  be  little  doubt  to  wdiich  we  should,  in 
real  life,  give  the  preference ; — the  levities  and  errors  of  the  one, 
arising  from  warmth  of  heart  and  of  youth,  may  be  merely  like 
those  mists  that  exhale  from  summer  streams,  obscuring  them 
awhile  to  the  eye,  without  affecting  the  native  purity  of  their 
waters ; while  the  hypocrisy  of  the  other  is  like  the  mirage  of 
the  desert,  shining  with  promise  on  the  surface,  but  all  false  and 
barren  beneath. 

In  a late  work,  professing  to  be  the  Memoirs  of  Mr.  Sheridan, 
there  are  some  wise  doubts  expressed  as  to  his  being  really  the 
author  of  the  School  for  Scandal,  to  which,  except  for  the  pur 
pose  of  exposing  absurdity,  I should  not  have  thought  it  worth 
while  to  allude.  It  is  an  old  trick  of  Detraction, — and  one,  of 
which  it  never  tires, — to  father  the  works  of  eminent  writers 
upon  others ; or,  at  least,  while  it  kindly  leaves  an  author  the 
credit  of  his  worst  performances,  to  find  some  one  in  the  back- 
ground to  ease  him  of  the  fame  of  his  best.  When  this  sort  of 
charge  is  brought  against  a cotemporary,  the  motive  is  intelligi- 
ble ; but,  such  an  abstract  pleasure  have  some  persons  in  merely 


BIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  167 


tiie  crown?  o'*  Fame,  that  a worthy  German  has  writ- 
ten an  elaborate  book  to  prove,  that  the  Iliad  was  written,  not  by 
that  particular  Homer  the  world  supposes,  but  by  some  other 
Homer ! Indeed,  if  mankind  were  to  be  influenced  by  those  Qui 
tarn  critics,  who  have,  from  time  to  time,  in  the  course  of  the 
history  of  literature,  exhibited  mformations  of  plrigiarism  against 
great  authors,  the  property  of  :^me  would  pass  from  its  present 
holders  into  the  hands  of  persons  with  whom  the  world  is  but 
little  acquainted.  Aristotle  must  refund  to  one  Ocellus  Lucanus 
-Virgil  must  make  a cessio  honorum  in  favor  of  Pisander — the 
Metamorphoses  of  Ovid  must  be  credited  to  the  account  of  Par- 
yhenius  of  Nicsea,  and  (to  come  to  a modern  instance)  Mr.  She- 
if.dan  must,  according  to  his  biographer,  Dr.  Watkins,  surrender 
the  glory  of  having  written  the  School  for  Scandal  to  a certain 
anonymous  young  lady,  who  died  of  a consumption  in  Thames 
Street ! 

To  pass,  however,  to  less  hardy  assailants  of  the  originality  of 
this  comedy, — it  is  said  that  the  characters  of  Joseph  and 
Charles  were  suggested  by  those  of  Blifil  and  Tom  Jones  ; that  the 
incident  of  the  arrival  of  Sir  Oliver  from  India  is  copied  from 
that  of  the  return  of  Warner  in  Sidney  Biddulph;  and  that  the 
hint  of  the  famous  scandal  scene  at  Lady  Sneerwell’s  is  borrow- 
ed from  a comedy  of  Moliere.  ^ 

Mr.  Sheridan,  it  is  true,  like  all  men  of  genius,  had,  in  addition 
to  the^  resources  of  his  own  wit,  a quick  apprehension  of  what 
suited  his  purpose  in  the  wit  of  others,  and  a power  of  enriching 
whatever  he  adopted  from  them  with  such  new  grace,  as  gave 
him  a sort  of  claim  of  paternity  over  it,  and  made  it  all  his  own. 
“ C’est  mon  bien,”  said  Moliere,  when  accused  of  borrowing, 
“ et  je  le  reprens  partout  ou  je  le  trouve and  next,  indeed,  to 
creation,  the  re-production,  in  a new  and  more  perfect  form,  of 
materials  already  existing,  or  the  full  development  of  thoughts 
that  had  but  half  blown  in  the  hands  of  others,  are  the  noblest 
miracles  for  wnich  we  look  to  the  hand  of  genius.  It  is  not  my 
intention  therefore  to  defend  Mr.  Sheridan  frftm  this  kind  of  pla- 
giarism, of  which  he  was  guilty  in  common  with  the  rest  of  his 


168 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


fellow-descendants  from  Prometheus,  who  all  steal  the  spaili 
wherever  they  can  find  it.  But  the  instances,  just  alleged,  of 
his  obligations  to  others,  are  too  questionable  and  trivial  to  be 
taken  into  any  serious  account.  Contrasts  of  character,  such  as 
Charles  and  Joseph  exhibit,  are  as  common  as  the  lights  and 
shadows  of  a landscape,  and  belong  neither  to  Fielding  nor  She- 
ridan, but  to  nature.  It  is  in  the  manner  of  transferring  them 
to  the  canvas  that  the  whole  dfflference  between  the  master  and 
the  copyist  lies;  and  Charles  and  Joseph  would,  no  doubt,  have 
been  what  they  are,  if  Tom  Jones  had  never  existed.  With 
respect  to  the  hint  supposed  to  be  taken  from  the  novel  of  hh 
mother,  he  at  least  had  a right  to  consider  any  aid  from  that 
quarter  as  “son  bien” — talent  being  the  only  patrimony  t.» 
which  he  had  succeeded.  But  the  use  made  of  the  return  of 
relation  in  the  play  is  wholly  different  from  that  to  which  the 
same  incident  is  applied  in  the  novel.  Besides,  in  those  golden 
times  of  Indian  delinquency,  the  arrival  of  a wealthy  relative 
from  the  East  was  no  very  unobvious  ingredient  in  a story. 

The  imitation  of  Moliere  (if,  as  I take  for  granted,  the.  Misan- 
thrope be  the  play,  in  which  the  origin  of  the  famous  seandel 
scene  is  said  to  be  found)  is  equally  faint  and  remote,  and,  except 
in  the  common  point  of  scandal,  untraceable.  Nothing,  indeed, 
can  be  more  unlike  than  the  manner  in  which  the  two  scenes  are 
managed.  .Celimene,  in  Moliere,  bears  the  whole  frais  of  the 
conversation ; and  this  female  La  Bruyere’s  tedious  and  solitary 
dissections  of  character  would  be  as  little  borne  on  the  English 
stage,  as  the  quick  and  dazzling  movement  of  so  many  lancets  of 
wit  as  operate  in  the  School  for  Scandal  would  be  tolerated  on 
that  of  the  French. 

It  is  frequently  said  that  Mr.  Sheridan  was  a good  deal  in- 
debted to  Wycherley;  and  he  himself  gave,  in  some  degree,  a 
color  to  the  charge,  by  the  suspicious  impatience  which  he  be- 
trayed whenever  any  allusion  was  made  to  it.  He  went  so  far, 
indeed,  it  is  said,  as  to  deny  having  ever  read  a line  of  Wycherley 
(though  of  Vanbrugh’s  dialogue  he  alw^ays  spolce  wnth  the  warmest 
admiration)  ; — and  this  assertion,  as  w ell  as  some  others  equally 


EIGHT  HON.  EICHAED  BEINSLEY  SHEEIDAN.  169 


remarkable,  such  as,  that  he  never  saw  Garrick  on  the  stage,  that 
he  never  had  seen  a play  throughout  in  his  life,  hov,^ever  strange 
and  startling  they  may  appear,  are,  at  least,  too  curious  and  cha- 
racteristic not  to  be  put  upon  record.  His  acquaintance  with 
Wycherley  was  possibly  but  at  second-hand,  and  confined,  per- 
haps, to  Garrick’s  alteration  of  the  Country  Wife,  in  which  the 
incident,  already  mentioned  as  having  been  borrowed  for  the 
Duenna,  is  preserved.  There  is,  however,  a scene  in  the  Plain 
Dealer  (Act  II.),  where  Nevil  and  Olivia  attack  the  characters  of 
the  persons  with  whom  Nevil  had  dined,  of  which  it  is  difficult 
to  believe  that  Mr.  Sheridan  was  ignorant : as  it  seems  to  con- 
tain much  of  that  Hyle^  or  First  Matter,  out  of  w^hich  his  own 
more  perfect  creations  were  formed. 

In  Congreve’s  Double  Dealer,  too,  (Act  III.  Scene  10)  there  is 
much  which  may,  at  least,  have  mixed  itself  with  the  recollec- 
tions of  Sheridan,  and  influenced  the  course  of  his  fancy — it  being 
often  found  that  the  images  with  which  the  memory  is  furnished, 
like  those  pictures  hung  up  before  the  eyes  of  pregnant  women 
at  Sparta,  produce  insensibly  a likeness  to  themselves  in  the 
offspring  which  the  imagination  brings  forth.  The  admirable 
drollery  in  Congreve  about  Lady  Froth’s  verses  on  her  coach- 
man— 

For  as  the  sun  shines  every  day, 

So  of  our  coachman  I may  say  ’’ — 

is  by  no  means  unlikely  to  have  suggested  the  doggerel  of  Sir 
Benjamin  Backbite ; and  the  scandalous  conversation  in  this 
scene,  though  far  ' inferior  in  delicacy  and  ingenuity  to  that  of 
Sheridan,  has  somewhat,  as  the  reader  wdll  see,  of  a parental 
resemblance  to  it : — 

Lord  Froth,  Hee,  hee,  my  dear ; have  you  done  ? Won’t  you  join  with 
us  ? We  were  laughing  at  my  lady  Whifler  and  Mr.  Sneer. 

Lady  F.  Aj,  my  dear,  were  you?  Oh,  filthy  Mr.  Sneer  ! he  is  a nau- 
seous figure,  a most  fulsamick  fop.  He  spent  two  days  together  in  going 
about  Covent  Garden  to  suit  the  lining  of  his  coach  with  his  complexion. 

Ld.  F.  Oh,  silly ! yet  his  aunt  is  as  fond  of  him,  as  if  she  bad  brought 
the  ape  into  the  world  herself. 

8 


VOL.  I. 


170 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


‘‘  Brisk.  Who?  my  Lady  Toothless?  Oh,  she  is  a mortifying  spectacle ; 
she’s  always  chewing  the  cud  like  an  old  ewe. 

“ Ld.  F.  Then  she’s  always  ready  to  laugh,  when  Sneer  offers  to  speak  ; 
and  sits  in  expectation  of  his  no  jest,  with  her  gums  bare,  and  her  mouth 
open — 

Brisk.  Like  an  oyster  at  low  ebb,  egad — ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Cynthia.  {Aside.)  Well,  I find  there  are  no  fools  so  inconsiderable  them- 
selves, but  they  can  render  other  people  contemptible  by  exposing  their 
infirmities. 

Lady  B\  Then  that  t’other  great  strapping  Lady — I can’t  hit  off  her 
name  : the  old  fat  fool,  that  paints  so  exorbitantly. 

“ Brisk.  I know  whom  you  mean — but,  deuce  take  her,  I can’t  hit  off  her 
name  either — paints,  d’ye  say  ? Why  she  lays  it  on  with  a trowel.  Then 
she  has  a great  beard  that  bristles  through  it,  and  makes  her  look  as  if  she' 
w'as  plastered  with  lime  and  hair,  let  me  perish.” 

It  would  be  a task  not  uninteresting,  to  enter  into  a detailed 
comparison  of  the  characteristics  and  merits  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  as 
a dramatic  writer,  with  those  of  the  other  great  masters  of  the 
art ; and  to  consider  how  far  they  differed  or  agreed  with  each 
other,  in  the  structure  of  their  plots  and  management  of  their 
dialogue — in  the  mode  of  laying  the  train  of  their  repartee,  or 
pointing  the  artillery  of  their  wit.  But  I have  already  devoted 
to  this  part  of  my  subject  a much  ampler  space,  than  to  some  of 
my  readers  will  appear  either  necessary  or  agreeable ; — though 
by  others,  more  interested  in  such  topics,  my  diffuseness  will,  1 
trust,  be  readily  pardoned.  In  tracking  Mr.  Sheridan  through 
his  too  distinct  careers  of  literature  and  of  politics,  it  is  on  the 
highest  point  of  his  elevation  in  each  that  the  eye  naturally  rests ; 
and  the  School  for  Scandal  in  one,  and  the  Begum  speeches  in 
the  other,  are  the  two  grand  heights — the  “ summa  hiverticis  um- 
bra Parnassi^^’^ — from  which  he  will  stand  out  to  after  times,  and 
round  which,  therefore,  his  biographer  may  be  excused  for  lin- 
gering with  most  fondness  and  delay. 

It  appears  singular  that,  during  the  life  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  no 
authorized  or  correct  edition  of  this  play  should  have  been  pub- 
lished in  England.  He  had,  at  one  time,  disposed  of  the  copy- 
right to  Mr.  Ridgway  of  Piccadilly,  but,  after  repeated  applica^ 
tions  from  the,  latter  for  the  manuscript,  he  was  told  by  Mr 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  171 


Sheridan,  as  an  excuse  for  keeping  it  back,  that  he  had  been  nine 
teen  years  endeavoring  to  satisfy  himself  with  the  style  of  the 
School  for  Scandal,  but  had  not  yet  succeeded.  Mr.  Ridgway, 
upon  this,  ceased  to  give  him  any  further  trouble  on  the  sub 
ject. 

The  edition  printed  in  Dublin  is,  v/ith  the  exception  of  a few 
unimportant  omissions  and  verbal  differences,  perfectly  correct. 
It  appears  that,  after  the  success  of  the  comedy  in  London,  he 
presented  a copy  of  it  to  his  eldest  sister,  Mrs.  Lefanu,  to  be 
disposed  of,  for  her  own  advantage,  to  the  manager  of  the  Dub- 
lin Theatre.  The  sum  of  a hundred  guineas,  and  free  admissions 
for  her  family,  were  the  terms  upon  which  Ryder,  the  manager 
at  that  period,  purchased  from  this  lady  the  right  of  acting  the 
play  ; and  it  was  from  the  copy  thus  procured  that  the  edition 
afterwards  published  in  Dublin  was  printed.  I have  collated 
this  edition  with  the  copy  given  by  Mr.  Sheridan  to  Lady  Crewe 
(the  last,  I believe,  ever  revised  by  himself  and  find  it,  with 
the  few  exceptions  already  mentioned,  correct  throughout. 

The  School  for  Scandal  has  been  translated  into  most  of  the 
languages  of  Europe,  and,  among  the  French  particularly,  has  un- 
dergone a variety  of  metamorphoses.  A translation,  midertaken, 
it  appears,  with  the  permission  of  Sheridan  himself,  was  pub- 
lished in  London,  in  the  year  1789,  by  a Monsieur  Bunell  De- 
liile,  who,  in  a dedication  to  “ Milord  Macdonald,”  gives  the  fol- 
lowing account  of  the  origin  of  his  4ask  : “ Vous  savez.  Milord, 
de  quelle  maniere  mysterieuse  cette  piece,  qui  n’a  jamais  ete  im- 
prime  que  furtivement,  se  trouva  I’ete  dernier  sur  ma  table,  en 
manuscrit,  in-folio ; et,  si  vous  daignez  vous  le  rappeler,  apres 


♦ Among  the  corrections  in  this  copy  (which  are  in  his  own  hand- writing,  and  but  few 
in  number),  there  is  one  which  shows  not  only  the  retentiveness  of  his  memory,  but  the 
minute  attention  which  he  paid  to  the  structure  of  his  .sentences.  Lady  Teazle,  in  her 
scene  with  Sir  Peter  in  the  Second  Act,  says  “ That’s  very  true,  indeed,  Sir  Peter  : and, 
after  having  married  you,  I should  never  pretend  to  taste  again,  I allow.”  It  was  thus 
lira.  <he  passage  stood  at  first  in  Lady  Crewe’s  copy, — as  it  does  still,  too,  in  the  Dublin 
edition,  and  in  that  given  in  the  Collecti  r':  of  his  W^'^^ks, — but  in  his  final  revision  of  this 
copy,  the  original  reading  of  the  sentence,  such  as  I iind  it  in  all  his  earlier  manuscripts 
of  the  play,  is  restored. — “That’s  very  true,  indeed.  Sir  Peter  ; and,  after  having  married 
you,  I am  sure  I should  never  pretend  to  taste  again  ” 


172 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


vous  avoir  fait  part  de  I’aventure,  je  courus  chez  Monsieur  Sheri- 
dan pour  lui  demander  la  permission,”  &c.  dec. 

The  scenes  of  the  Auction  and  the  Screen  were  introduced, 
for  the  first  time,  I believe,  on  the  Trench  stage,  in  a little  piece 
called,  ‘‘  Les  Deux  Neveux^''  acted  in  the  year  1788,  by  the  young 
comedians  of  the  Comte  de  Beaujolais.  Since  then,  the  story 
has  been  reproduced  under  various  shapes  and  names  : — “ Les 
Portraits  de  Famille,”  “ Valsain  et  Tlorville,”  and,  at  the  Thea- 
tre Frangais,  under  the  title  of  the  “ TartufFe  d^  Moeurs.”  Late- 
ly, too,  the  taste  for  the  subject  has  revived.  The  Vaudeville 
has  founded  upon  it  a successful  piece,  called  “ Les  Deux  Cou- 
sins and  there  is  even  a melodrame  at  the  Porte  St.  Martiij. 
entitled  “ L’Ecole  du  Scandale,” 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.*  173 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

FURTHER  PURCHASE  OF  THEATRICAL  PROPERTY.— MON- 
ODY TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  GARRICK. — ESSAY  ON  ME- 
TRE.— THE  CRITIC. — ESSAY  ON  ABSENTEES. — ^POLITI- 
CAL CONNECTIONS. — THE  “ ENGLISHMAN.”  — ELECTED 
FOR  STAFFORD. 

The  document  in  Mr.  Sheridan’s  handwriting,  already  men- 
tioned, from  which  I have  stated  the  sums  paid  in  1776  by  him. 
Dr.  Pord,  and  Mr.  Linley,  for  Garrick’s  moiety  of  the  Drury 
Lane  Theatre,  thus  mentions  the  new  purchase,  by  which  he  ex 
tended  his  interest  in  this  property  in  the  year  1778 : — “ Mr. 
Sheridan  afterwards  was  obliged  to  buy  Mr.  Lacy’s  moiety  at  a 
price  exceeding  45,000Z. : this  was  in  the  year  1778.”  He  then 
adds — what  it  may  be  as  well  to  cite,  while  I have  the  paper  be- 
fore me,  though  relating  to  subsequent  changes  in  the  property  : 
— “ In  order  to  enable  Mr.  S.  to  complete  this  purpose,  he  after- 
wards consented  to  divide  his  original  share  between  Dr.  Ford 
and  Mr.  Linley,  so  as  to  make  up  each  of  theirs  a quarter.  But 
the  price  at  which  they  purchased  from  Mr.  Sheridan  was  not  at 
the  rate  which  he  bought  from  Lacy,  though  at  an  advance  on 
the  price  paid  to  Garrick.  Mr.  S.  has  since  purchased  Dr.  Ford’s 
quarter  for  the  sum  of  17,000/.,  subject  to  the  increased  incum- 
brance of  the  additional  renters.” 

By  what  spell  all  these  thousands  were  conjured  up,  if  would 
be  difficult  accurately  to  ascertain.  That  happy  art^ — in  which 
the  people  of  this  country  are  such  adepts — of  putting  the  future 
in  pawn  for  the  supply  of  the  present,  must  have  been  the  chief 
^3S0urc>  of  Mr.  Sheridan  in  all  these  later  purchases. 

Among  the  visible  signs  of  his  increased  influence  in  the  affairs 


174 


MEMOIRS  OF  ME  LIFE  OF  THE 


of  the  theatre,  was  the  appointment,  this  year,  of  his  father  to 
be  manager ; — a reconciliation  having  taken  place  between  them, 
which  was  facilitated,  no  doubt,  by  the  brightening  prospects  of 
the  son,  and  by  the  generous  confidence  which  his  prosperity 
gave  him  in  making  the  first  advances  towards  such  a reunion. 

One  of  the  novelties  of  the  year  was  a musical  entertainment 
called  The  Camp,  which  was  falsely  attributed  to  Mr.  Sheridan 
at  the  time,  and  has  since  been  inconsiderately  admitted  into  the 
Collection  of  his  W orks.  This  unworthy  trifle  (as  appears  from 
a rough  copy  of  it  in  my  possession)  was  the  production  of  Tick- 
ell,  and  the  patience  with  which  his  friend  submitted  to  the  im- 
putation of  having  written  it  was  a sort  of  “ martyrdom  of  fame” 
which  few  but  himself  could  afford. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  year  1779  Garrick  died,  and  Sheridan, 
as  chief  mourner,  followed  him  to  the  grave.  He  also  wrote  a 
Monody  to  his  memory,  which  was  delivered  by  Mrs.  Yates, 
after  the  play  of  the  W est  Indian,  in  the  month  of  March  follow- 
ing. During  the  interment  of  Garrick  in  Poet’s  Corner,  Mr. 
Burke  had  remarked  that  the  statue  of  Shakspeare  seemed  to 
point  to  the  grave  where  the  great  actor  of  his  works  was  laid. 
This  hint  did  not  fall  idly  on  the  ear  of  Sheridan,  as  the  follow- 
ing fixation  of  the  thought,  in  the  verses  which  he  afterwards 
wrote,  proved : — 

The  throng  that  mourn’d,  as  their  dead  favorite  pass’d,  / 

The  grac’d  respect  that  claim’d  him  to  the  last  5 
While  Shakspeare’s  image,  from  its  hallow’d  base. 

Seem’d  to  prescribe  the  grave  and  point  the  place.” 

This  Monody,  which  was  the  longest  flight  ever  sustained  by 
its  author  in  verse,  is  more  remarkable,  perhaps,  for  refinement 
and  elegance,  than  for  either  novelty  of  thought  or  depth  of  sen- 
timent. There  is,  however,  a fine  burst  of  poetical  eloquence  in 
the  lines  beginning  “ Superior  hopes  the  poet’s  bosom  fire  and 
this  passage,  accordingly,  as  being  the  best  in  the  poem,  was,  by 
the  gossiping  critics  of  the  day,  attributed  to  Tickell, — from  the 
same  laudable  motives  that  had  induced  them  to  attribute  Tickell’s 
bad  farce  to  Sheridan.  There  is  no  end  to  the  variety  of  these 


EIGHT  HOH.  EICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  175 


snxall  missiles  of  malice,  with  which  the  Gullivers  of  the  world 
of  literature  are  assailed  by  the  Lilliputians  around  them. 

The  chief  thought  which  pervades  this  poem, — namely,  the 
fleeting  nature  of  the  actor’s  art  and  fame, — had  already  been 
more  simply  expressed  by  Garrick  himself  in  his  Prologue  to 
The  Clandestine  Marriage : — 

The  painter dead,  yet  still  he  charms  the  eye ; 

While  England  lives,  his  fame  can  never  die  ; 

But  he,  who  struts  his  hour  upon  the  stage, 

Can  scarce  protract  his  fame  through  half  an  age  ; 

Nor  pen  nor  pencil  can  the  actor  save  ; 

The  art  and  artist  have  one  common  grave.’^ 

Colley IJibber,  too,  in  his  portrait  (if  I remember  right)  of 
Betterton,  breaks  off  into  the  same  reflection,  in  the  following 
graceful  passage,  which  is  one  of  those  instances,  where  prose 
could  not  be  exchanged  for  poetry  without  loss : — “ Pity  it  is 
that  the  momentary  beauties,  flowing  from  an  harmonious  elo- 
cution, cannot,  like  those  of  poetry,  be  their  own  record ; that 
the  animated  graces  of  the  player  can  live  no  longer  than  the 
instant  breath  and  motion  that  presents  them,  or,  at  best,  can 
but  faintly  glimmer  through  the  memory  of  a few  surviving 
spectators.” 

With  respect  to  the  style  and  versification  of  the  Monody,  the 
heroic  couplet  in  which  it  is  written  has  long  been  a sort  of 
Ulysses’  bow,  at  which  Poetry  tries  her  suitors,  and  at  which  they 
almost  all  fail.  Eedundancy  of  epithet  and  monotony  of  cadence 
are  the  inseparable  companions  of  this  metre  in  ordinary  hands ; 
nor  could  all  the  taste  and  skill  of  -Sheridan  keep  it  wholly  free 
from  these  defects  in  his  own.  To  .the  subject  of  metre,  he  had, 
nevertheless,  paid  great  attention.  There  are  among  his  papers 
some  fragments  of  an  Essay'^  which  he  had  commenced  on  the 

* Or  rather  memorandums  collected,  as  was  his  custom,  with  a view  to  the  composition 
of  such  an  Essay.  He  had  been  reading  the  writings  of  Dr.  Foster,  Webb,  &c.  on  this 
sul)ject,  with  the  intention,  apparently,  of  publishing  an  answer  to  them.  Tlie  following 
(which  is  one  of  the  few  consecutive  passages  I can  find  in  these  notes)  will  show  how 
little  reverence  he  entertained  for  that  ancient  prosody,  upon  which,  in  the  system  of 
English  education,  so  large  and  precious  a portion  of  human  life  is  wasted  “ I never  de- 


176 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


nature  of  poetical  accent  and  emphasis ; and  the  adaptation  of 
his  verses  to  the  airs  in  the  Duenna — even  allowing  for  the  aid 
which  he  received  from  Mrs.  Sheridan — shows  a degree  of  mu- 
sical feeling,  from  which  a much  greater  variety  of  cadence 
might  be  expected,  than  we  find  throughout  the  versification  of 
this  poem.  The  taste  of  the  time,  however,  was  not  prepared 
for  any  great  variations  in  the  music  of  the  couplet.  The  regular 
foot-fall,  established  so  long,  had  yet  been  but  little  disturbed ; 
and  the  only  license  of  this  kind  hazarded  through  the  poem — 
“ All  perishable  ” — was  objected  to  by  some  of  the  author’s 
critical  friends,  who  suggested,  that  it  would  be  better  thus : 
‘‘  All  doom’d  to  perish.” 

Whatever  in  more  important  points  may  be  the  inferiority  of 

sire  a stronger  proof  that  an  author  is  on  a wrong  scent  on  these  subjects,  than  to  see 
Quintilian,  Aristotle,  &c.,  quoted  on  a point  where  they  have  not  the  least  business.  All 
poetry  is  made  by  the  ear,  w’hich  must  be  the  sole  judge— -it  is  a sort  of  musical  rhyth- 
mus.  If  then  we  want  to  reduce  our  practical  harmony  to  rules,  every  man,  with  a 
knowledge  of  his  own  language  and  a good  ear,  is  at  once  competent  to  the  undertaking. 
Let  him  trace  it  to  music — if  he  has  no  knowledge,  let  him  inquire. 

“We  have  lost  all  notion  of  the  ancient  accent ; — we  have  lost  their  pronunciation  ; — all 
puzzling  about  it  is  ridiculous,  and  trying  to  find  out  the  melody  of  our  owm  verse  by  theirs 
is  still  w'orse.  We  should  have  had  all  our  own  metres,  if  we  never  had  heard  a word  of 
their  language, — this  I affirm.  Every  nation  finds  out  for  itself  a national  melody  ; and 
we  may  say  of  it,  as  of  religion,  no  place  has  been  discovered  without  music.  A people, 
likewise,  as  their  language  improves,  will  introduce  a music  into  their  poetry,  W'-hich  is 
simply  (that  is  to  say,  the  numerical  part  of  poetry,  which  must  be  distinguished 
from  the  imaginary)  the  transferring  the  time  of  melody  into  speaking.  What  then  have 
the  Greeks  or  Romans  to  do  v/ith  our  music  ? It  is  plain  that  our  admiration  of  their 
verse  is  mere  pedantry,  because  w’^e  could  not  adopt  it.  Sir  Philip  Sidney  failed.  If  it 
had  been  melody,  we  should  have  had  it ; our  language  is  just  as  well  calculated  for  it. 

“It  is  astonishing  that  the  excessive  ridiculousness  of  a Gradus  or  Prosodial  Diction- 
ary has  never  struck  our  scholars.  The  idea  of  looking  into  a book  to  see  whether  the 
sound  of  a syllable  be  short  or  long  is  absolutely  as  much  a bull  of  Boeotian  pedantry  as 
ever  disgraced  Ireland.’’  He  then  adds,  v/itli  reference  to  some  mistakes  which  Dr.  Fos- 
ter had  appeared  to  him  to  have  committed  in  his  accentuation  of  English  words 
“What  strange  effects  has  this  system  brought  about  I It  has  so  corrupted  the  ear,  that 
absolutely  our  scholars  cannot  tell  an  English  long  syllable  from  a short  one.  If  a boy 
w'ere  to  make  the  a in  ‘ cano’  or  ‘ amo’  long,  Dr.  F.  would  no  doubt  feel  his  ear  hurt, 
and  yet  ******  * *•” 

Of  the  style  in  which  some  of  his  observations  are  committed  to  paper,  the  following  Is 
a curious  specimen  “Dr.  Foster  says  that  short  syllables,  when  inflated  with  that  em- 
phasis which  the  sense  demands,  swell  in  height,  length,  and  breadth  beyond  their  natural 

size. The  devil  they  do  ! Here  is  a most  omnipotent  power  in  emphasis.  Quantity  and 

accent  may  in  vain  toil  to  produce  a little  effect,  but  emphasis  comes  at  once  and  mono- 
polizes the  power  of  them  both.”  ^ 


BIGHT  HOK.  EICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  177 

the  present  school  of  poetry  to  that  which  preceded  it,  in  the 
music  of  versification  there  can  be  but  little  doubt  of  its  im- 
provement ; nor  has  criticism,  perhaps,  ever  rendered  a greater 
service  to  the  art,  than  in  helping  to  unseal  the  ears  of  its  wor- 
shippers to  that  true  spheric  harmony  of  the  elders  of  song,  which, 
during  l long  period  of  our  literature,  was  as  unheard  as  if  it 
never  existed. 

The  Monody  does  not  seem  to  have  kept  the  stage  more  than 
• five  or  six  nights ; — nor  is  this  surprising.  The  recitation  of  a 
long,  serious  address  must  always  be,  to  a certain  degree,  in- 
effective on  the  stage ; and,  though  this  subject  contained  within 
it  many  strong  sources  of  interest,  as  well  personal  as  dramatic, 
they  were  not,  perhaps,  turned  to  account  by  the  poet  with 
sufficient  warmth  and  earnestness  on  his  own  part,  to  excite  a 
very  ready  response  of  sympathy  in  others.  Feeling  never 
wanders  into  generalities — it  is  only  by  concentrating  his  rays 
upon  one  point  that  even  Genius  can  kindle  strong  emotion; 
and,  in  order  to  produce  any  such  effect  in  the  present  in- 
stance upon  the  audience,  Garrick  himself  ought  to  have  been 
kept  prominently  and  individually  before  their  eyes  in  almost 
every  line.  Instead  of  this,  however,  the  man  is  soon  forgotten 
in  his  Art,  which  is  then  deliberately  compared  with  other  Arts, 
and  the  attention,  through  the  greater  part  of  the  poem,  is  diffused 
over  the  transitoriness  of  actors  in  general,  instead  of  being 
brought  strongly  to  a focus  upon  the  particular  loss  just  sustained. 
Even  in  those  parts  which  apply  most  directly  to  Garrick,  the 
feeling  is  a good  deal  diluted  by  this  tendency  to  the  abstract ; 
and,  sometimes,  by  a false  taste  of  personification,  like  that  in  the 
very  first  line, — 

If  dying  *ixcellence  deserves  a tear,” 

where  the  substitution  of  a quality  of  the  man  for  the  man  him- 
self* puts  the  mind,  as  it  were,  one  remove  farther  from  the 

* Another  instance  of  this  fault  occurs  in  his  song  “ When  sable  Night  — 

“ As  some  fond  mother,  o’er  her  babe  deploring, 

Wakes  ite  beauty  with  a tear 

where  the  clearness  and  reality  of  the  picture  are  spoiled  by  the  affectation  of  represent* 
ing  the  beauty  of  U.2  cliild  as  waked,  instead  of  the  chi'd  itself. 

VOL.  I.  8* 


178 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


substantial  object  of  its  interest,  and  disturbs  that  sense  of 
reality,  on  which  the  operations  even  of  Fancy  itself  ought  to  be 
founded. 

But  it  is  very  easy  to  play  the  critic — so  easy  as  to  be  a task 
of  but  little  glory.  For  one  person  who  could  produce  such  a 
poem  as  this,  how  many  thousands  exist  and  have  existed,  whc 
could  shine  in  the  exposition  of  its  faults  ! Though  insufficient, 
perhaps,  in  itself,  to  create  a reputation  for  an  author,  yet,  as  a 
“ Stella  CoYoncB^'^ — one  of  the  stars  in  that  various  crown,  which 
marks  the  place  of  Sheridan  in  the  firmament  of  Fame, — it  not 
only  well  sustains  its  own  part  in  the  lustre,  but  draws  new  light 
from  the  host  of  brilliancy  around  it. 

It  was  in  the  course  of  this  same  year  that  he  produced  the 
entertainment  of  the  Critic — his  last  legitimate  offering  on  the 
shrine  of  the  Dramatic  Muse.  In  this  admirable  farce  we  have 
a striking  instance  of  that  privilege  which,  as  I have  already  said. 
Genius  assumes,  of  taking  up  subjects  that  had  passed  through 
other  hands,  and  giving  them  a new  value  and  currency  by  his 
stamp.  The  plan  of  a Rehearsal  was  first  adopted  for  the  pur- 
pose of  ridiculing  Dry  den,  by  the  Duke  of  Buckingham ; but, 
though  there  is  much  laughable  humor  in  some  of  the  dialogue 
between  Bayes  and  his  friends,  the  salt  of  the  satire  altogether 
was  not  of  a very  conservative  nature,  and  the  piece  continued 
to  be  served  up  to  the  public  long  after  it  had  lost  its  relish. 
Fielding  tried  the  same  plan  in  a variety  of  pieces — in  his  Pas- 
quin,  his  Historical  Register,  his  Author’s  Farce,  his  Eurydice, 
&c., — ^but  without  much  success,  except  in  the  comedy  of  Pas- 
quin,  which  had,  I believe,  at  first  a prosperous  career,  though  it 
has  since,  except  with  the  few  that  still  read  it  for  its  fine  tone  of 
pleasantry,  fallen  into  oblivion.  It  was  reserved  for  Sheridan  to 
give  vitality  to  this  form  of  dramatic  humor,  and  to  invent 
even  his  satirical  portraits — as  in  the  instance  of  Sir  Fretful 
Plagiary,  which,  it  is  well  known,  was  designed  for  Cumberland — 
with  a generic  character,  which,  v/itbout  weakening  the  particular 
resemblance,  makes  them  representatives  for  ever  of  the  whole 
class  to  which  the  original  belonged.  Bayes,  on  the  contrary,  is 


HIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  179 


a caricature — made  up  of  little  more  than  personal  peculiarities, 
which  may  amuse  as  long  as  reference  can  be  had  to  the  proto- 
type, but,  like  those  supplemental  features  furnished  from  the 
living  subject  by  Taliacotius,  fall  lifeless  the  moment  the  indi- 
vidual that  supplied  them  is  defunct. 

It  is  evident,  however,  that  Bayes  was  not  forgotten  in  the 
composition  of  The  Critic.  His  speech,  where  the  two  Kings  of 
Brentford  are  singing  in  the  clouds,  may  be  considered  as  the 
exemplar  which  Sheridan  had  before  him  in  writing  some  of  the 
rehearsal  scenes  of  Puff: — 

“ Smith,  Well,  but  metliinks  the  sense  of  this  song  is  not  very  plain. 
Bayes.  Plain ! why  did  you  ever  hear  any  people  in  the  clouds  sing 
plain?  They  must  be  all  for  flight  of  fancy  at  its  fullest  range,  without 
the  least  check  or  control  upon  it.  When  once  you  tie  up  spirits  and  peo- 
ple in  clouds  to  speak  plain,  you  spoil  all.’’ 

There  are  particular  instances  of  imitation  still  more  direct. 
Thus  in  The  Critic  : 

Enter  Sm  Walter  Raleigh  and  Sir  Christopher  Hatton. 

Sir  Christ,  H.  True,  gall  an':  Raleigh, — 

Bangle.  What,  had  they  been  talking  before  ? 

“ Bnff.  Oh  yes,  all  the  way  as  they  came  along.” 

In  the  same  maimer  in  The  Kehearsal,  where  the  Physician 
and  Usher  of  the  two  Kings  enter  : — 


Phys,  Sir,  to  conclude — 

Smith.  What,  before  he  begins  ? 

“ Bayes.  No,  Sir,  you  must  know  they  had  been  talking  of  this  a pretty 
while  without. 

Smith.  Where?  in  the  tyring  room? 

“ Bayes.  Why,  ay,  Sir.  He’s  so  dull.” 

Bayes,  at  the  opening  of  the  Fifth  Act,  says,  “ Now,  gentle- 
men, I will  be  bold  to  say.  I’ll  show  you  the  greatest  scene  tnac 
England  ever  saw ; I mean  not  for  words,  for  those  1 don’t  value, 
but  for  state,  show,  and  magnificence.”  Puff  announces  his 
grand  scene  in  much  the  same  manner : — “ Now  then  for  my 
magnificence  ! my  battle  ! my  noise  ! and  my  procession !” 


180 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


In  Fielding,  too,  we  find  numerous  hints  or  germs,  that  hav€^ 
come  to  their  full  growth  of  wit  in  The  Critic.  For  instance,  in 
Trapwit  (a  character  in  “ Pasquin”)  there  are  the  rudiments  of 
Sir  Fretful  as  well  as  of  Puff : — 

Sneerwell,  Yes,  Mth,  I think  I would  cut  that  last  speech. 

Trapwit.  Sir,  ITl  sooner  cut  off  an  ear  or  two ; Sir,  that^s  the  very 
best  thing  in  the  whole  play  * * * ♦ * 

* * * 

Trapwit.  Now,  Mr.  Sneerwell,  we  shall  begin  my  third  and  last  act ; 
and  I believe  I may  defy  all  the  poets  who  have  ever  writ,  or  ever  will 
write,  to  produce  its  equal : it  is,  Sir,  so  crammed  with  drums  and  trum- 
pets, thunder  and  lightning,  battles  and  ghosts,  that  I believe  the  audience 
will  want  no  entertainment  after  it.” 

The  manager,  Marplay,  in  “The  Author’s  Farce,”  like  him  of 
Drury  Lane  in  the  Critic,  “ does  the  town  the  honor  of  Avriting 
himself;”  and  the  following  incident  in  “ The  Historical  Register” 
suggested  possibly  the  humorous  scene  of  Lord  Burleigh  : — 

Enter  Four  Patriots  from  different  Doors,  who  meet  in  the 
centre  and  shake  Hands. 

Sour-wit.  These  patriots  seem  to  equal  your  greatest  politicians  in  theii 
silence. 

Medley.  Sir,  what  they  think  now  cannot  well  be  spoke,  but  you  may 
conjecture  a good  deal  from  their  shaking  their  heads.” 

Such  coincidences,  whether  accidental  or  designed,  are  at  least 
curious,  and  the  following  is  another  of  somewhat  a different 
kind  : — “ Steal ! (says  Sir  Fretful)  to  be  sure  they  may  ; and 
egad,  serve  your  best  thoughts  as  gipsies  do  stolen  children,  dis- 
figure them,  to  make  ’em  pass  for  their  own.”*  Churchill  has 
the  same  idea  in  nearly  the  same  language : — 

“ Still  pilfers  wretched  plans  and  makes  them  worse. 

Like  gipsies,  lest  the  stolen  brat  be  known, 

Defacing  first,  then  claiming  for  their  own.” 

The  character  of  Puff,  as  I have  already  shown,  was  our  au 

♦ This  simile  was  again  made  use  of  by  him  in  a speech  upon  Mr.  Pitt’s  India  Bill,  wliicl 
he  declared  to  be  “ nothing  more  than  a bad  plagiarism  on  Mr.  Fox’s,  disfigured,  indeed 
as  gipsies  do  stolen  children,  in  order  to  make  them  pass  for  their  own.” 


EIGHT  HON.  KICHAKD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  181 


thor’s  first  dramatic  attempt ; and,  having  left  it  unfinished  in 
the  porch  as  he  entered  the  temple  of  Comedy,  he  now,  we  see, 
made  it  worthy  of  being  his  farewell  oblation  in  quitting  it. 
Like  Eve’s  flowers,  it  was  his 

“ Early  visitation,  and  his  last.” 

We  must  not,  however,  forget  a lively  Epilogue  which  h€ 
wrote  this  year,  for  Miss  Hannah  More’s  tragedy  of  Fatal  False- 
hood, in  which  there  is  a description  of  a blue-stocking  lady,  exe- 
cuted with  all  his  happiest  point.  Of  this  dense,  epigrammatic 
style,  in  which  every  line  is  a cartridge  of  wit  in  itself,  Sheridan 
was,  both  in  prose  and  verse,  a consummate  master ; and  if  any 
one  could  hope  to  succeed,  after  Pope,  in  a Mock  Epic,  founded 
upon  fashionable  life,  it  would  have  been,  we  should  think,  the 
writer  of  this  epilogue.  There  are  some  verses,  written  on  the 
^''Immortelle  Ernilie^''  of  Voltaire,  in  which  her  employments,  as 
a savante  and  a woman  of  the  world,  are  thus  contrasted : — 

Tout  lux  plait^  tout  convient  a son  vaste  genie, 

Les  livres,  les  bijoux,  les  compas^  les  pompons, 

Les  vers,  les  diamans,  les  herihis,  Vopiique, 

Valgehre,  les  soupers,  le  Latin,  les  jupons, 

E opera,  les  proces,  le  hal,  et  la  physiqueT 

How  powerfully  has  Sheridan,  in  bringing  out  the  same  con- 
trasts, shown  the  difference  between  the  raw  material  of  a 
thought,  and  the  fine  fabric  as  it  comes  from  the  hands  of  a 
workman : — 

What  motley  cares  Gorilla’s  mind  perplex, 

Whom  maids  and  metaphors  conspire  to  vex ! 

In  studious  deshabille  behold  her  sit, 

A letter’d  gossip  and  a housewife  wit : 

At  once  invoking,  though  for  different  views, 

Her  gods,  her  cook,  her  milliner,  and  muse. 

Round  her  strew’d  room  a frippery  chaos  lies, 

A chequer’d  ^vreck  of  notable  and  wise. 

Bills,  books,  caps,  couplets,  combs,  a varied  mass^ 

Oppress  the  toilet  and  obscure  the  glass ; 


182  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

Unfinished  here  an  epigram  is  laid, 

And  there  a mantua-makeres  hill  unpaid. 

There  new-horn  plays  foretaste  the  town’s  applause, 

There  dormant  patterns  pine  for  future  gauze. 

A moral  essay  now  is  all  her  care, 

A satire  next,  and  then  a hill  of  fare. 

A scene  she  now^  projects,  and  now  a dish. 

Here  Act  the  First,  and  here  ‘ Remove  with  Fish.’ 

Now,  while  this  eye  in  a fine  frenzy  rolls. 

That  soberly  casts  up  a hill  for  coals  ; 

Black  pins  and  daggers  in  one  leaf  she  sticks, 

And  tears,  and  threads,  and  howls,  and  thimhles  mix.” 

We  must  now  prepare  to  follow  the  subject  of  this  Memoir 
into  a field  of  display,  altogether  different,  where  he  was  in  turn 
to  become  an  actor  before  the  public  himself,  and  where,  instead 
of  inditing  lively  speeches  for  others,  he  was  to  deliver  the  dio 
tates  of  his  eloquence  and  wit  from  his  own  lips.  However  the 
lovers  of  the  drama  may  lament  this  diversion  of  his  talents, 
and  doubt  whether  even  the  chance  of  another  School  for  Scan- 
dal were  not  worth  more  than  ail  his  subsequent  career,  yet  to 
the  individual  himself,  full  of  ambition,  and  conscious  of  versa- 
tility of  powers,  such  an  opening  into  a new  course  of  action  and 
fame,  must  have  been  like  one  of  those  sudden  turnings  of  the 
road  in  a beautiful  country,  which  dazzle  the  eyes  of  a traveller 
with  new  glories,  and  invite  him  on  to  untried  paths  of  fertility 
and  sunshine. 

It  has  been  before  remarked  how  early,  in  a majority  of  in- 
stances, the  dramatic  talent  has  come  to  its  fullest  maturity. 
Mr.  Sheridan  would  possibly  never  have  exceeded  what  he  had 
already  done,  and  his  celebrity  had  now  reached  that  point  of 
elevation,  where,  by  a sort  of  optical  deception  in  the  atmos- 
phere of  fame,  to  remain  stationary  is  to  seem,  in  the  eyes  of 
the  spectators,  to  fall.  He  had,  indeed,  enjoyed  only  the  tri- 
umphs of  talent,  and  without  even  descending  to  those  ovations, 
or  minor  triumphs,  which  in  general  are  little  more  than  cele- 
brations of  escape  from  defeat,  and  to  which  tney,  who  surpass 
all  but  themselves,  are  often  capriciously  reduced.  It  is  ques^ 


EIGHT  HON.  EICHAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  183 


tionable,  too,  whether,  in  any  other  walk  of  literature,  he  would 
have  sustained  the  high  reputation  which  he  acquired  by  the  drama. 
Very  rarely  have  dramatic  writers,  even  of  the  first  rank,  ex- 
hibited powers  of  equal  rate,  when  out  of  the  precincts  of  their 
own  art;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  poets  of  a more  general 
range,  whether  epic,  lyric,  or  satiric,  have  as  rarely  succeeded  on 
the  stage.  There  is,  indeed,  hardly  one  of  our  celebrated  dra- 
matic authors  (and  the  remark  might  be  extended  to  other  coun- 
tries) who  has  left  works  woT’thy  of  his  reputation  in  any  other 
line ; and  Mr.  Sheridan,  perhaps,  might  only  have  been  saved 
from  adding  to  the  list  of  failures,  by  such  a degree  of  prudence 
or  of  mdolence  a-s  would  have  prevented  him  from  making  the 
attempt.  He  may,  therefore,  be  said  to  have  closed  his  account 
with  literature,  when  not  only  the  glory  of  his  past  successes,  but 
the  hopes  of  all  that  he  might  yet  have  achieved,  were  set  down 
fully,  and  without  any  risk  of  forfeiture,  to  his  credit ; and,  in- 
stead of  being  left,  like  Alexander,  to  sigh  for  new  worlds  to 
vanquish,  no  sooner  were  his  triumphs  in  one  sphere  of  action 
complete  than  another  opened  to  invite  him  to  new  conquests. 

We  have  already  seen  that  Politics,  from  the  very  commence-  . 
ment  of  his  career,  had  held  divided  empire  with  Literature  in  the 
tastes  and  studies  of  Mr.  Sheridan;  and,  even  in  his  fullest 
enjoyment  of  the  smiles  of  the  Comic  Muse,  while  he  stood 
without  a rival  in  her  affections,  the  “ Musa  severior'^^  of  politics 
was  estranging  the  constancy  of  his — 

‘‘  Te  tenet,  absentes  alios  suspirat  amoresy 

E’en  while  perfection  lies  within  his  arms, 

He  strays  in  thought,  and  sighs  for  other  charms.” 

Among  his  manuscripts  there  are  some  sheets  of  an  Essay  on 
Absentees,  which,  from  the  allusions  it  contains  to  the  measures 
then  in  contemplation  for  Ireland,  must  have  been  written,  I ra- 
ther think,  about  the  year  1778 — when  the  School  for  Scandal 
was  in  its  first  career  of  success,  and  the  Critic  preparing,  at  no 
very  long  interval,  to  partake  its  triumph.  It  is  obvious,  from 
some  expressions  used  in  this  pamphlet,  that  his  intention  was^ 


184 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


if  not  to  publish  it  in  Ireland,  at  least  to  give  it  the  appearance 
of  having  been  written  there — and,  except  the  pure  unmixed  mo- 
tive of  rendering  a service  to  his  country,  by  the  discussion  of  a 
subject  so  closely  connected  with  her  interests,  it  is  difficult  to 
conceive  what  inducement  he  could  have  had  to  select  at  that 
moment  such  a topic  for  his  pen.  The  plain,  unpretending  style’ 
of  the  greater  part  of  the  composition  sufficiently  proves  that 
literary  display  was  not  the  object  of  it ; while  the  absence  of  all 
criminatory  matter  against  the  government  precludes  the  idea 
of  its  having  originated  in  party  zeal. 

As  it  is  curious  to  observe  how  soberly  his  genius  could  yoke 
itself  to  grave  matter  of  fact,  after  the  winged  excursions  in 
which  it  had  been  indulging,  I shall  here  lay  some  paragraphs  of 
this  pamphlet  before  the  reader. 

In  describing  the  effects  of  the  prevailing  system  of  pasturage 
— one  of  the  evils  attributed  by  him  to  Absentees, — he  thus,  with 
occasional  irradiations  of  eloquence  and  ingenuity,  expresses 
himself: — 

“ Now  it  must  ever  be  the  interest  of  the  Absentee  to  place  his  estates 
in  the  hands  of  as  few  tenants  as  possible,  by  which  means  there  will  be 
less  difficulty  or  hazard  in  collecting  his  rents,  and  less  intrusted  to  an 
agent,  if  his  estate  require  one.  The  easiest  method  of  effecting  this  is 
by  laying  the  land  out  for  pasturage,  and  letting  it  in  gross  to  those  who 
deal  only  in  ‘ a fatal  living  crop  ’ — whose  produce  we  are  not  allowed  a 
market  for  when  manufactured,  while  we  want  art,  honesty,  and  encou- 
ragement to  fit  it  for  home  consumption.  Thus  the  indolent  extravagance 
of  the  lord  becomes  subservient  to  the  interest  of  a few  mercenary  graziers 
— shepherds  of  most  unpastoral  principles — while  the  veteran  husbandman 
may  lean  on  the  shattered,  unused  plough,  and  view  himself  surrounded 
with  flocks  that  furnish  raiment  without  food.  Or,  if  his  honesty  be  not 
proof  against  the  hard  assaults  of  penury,  he  may  be  led  to  revenge  him- 
self on  these  dumb  innovators  of  his  little  field — then  learn  too  late  that 
some  portion  of  the  soil  is  reserved  for  a crop  more  fatal  even  than  that 
which  tempted  and  destroyed  him. 

Without  dwelling  on  the  particular  ill  effects  of  non-residence  in  tbi-a 
case,  I shall  conclude  with  representing  that  principal  and  supreme  pre- 
rogative which  the  Absentee  foregoes— the  prerogative  of  mercy,  of  charity. 
The  estated  resident  is  invested  with  a kind  of  relieving  providence— a 
power  to  heal  the  wound,s  of  undeserved  misfortune — to  hi*eak  the  blow^ 


EIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  185 


of  adverse  fortune,  and  leave  chance  no  power  to  undo  the  hopes  of  honest 
persevering  industry.  There  cannot  surely  be  a more  happy  station  than 
that  wherein  prosperity  and  worldly  interest  are  to  be  best  forwarded  by  an 
exertion  of  the  most  endearing  ofiSces  of  humanity.  This  is  his  situation 
who  lives  on  the  soil  which  furnishes  him  with  means  to  live.  It  is  his  in- 
terest  to  watch  the  devastation  of  the  storm,  the  ravage  of  the  flood — to 
mark  the  pernicious  extremes  of  the  elements,  and,  by  a judicious  indul- 
gence and  assistance,  to  convert  the  sorrows  and  repinings  of  the  suflerer 
into  blessings  on  his  humanity.  By  such  a conduct  he  saves  his  people 
from  the  sin  of  unrighteous  murmurs,  and  makes  Heaven  his  debtor  for 
their  resignation. 

It  will  be  said  that  the  residing  in  another  kingdom  will  never  erase 
from  humane  minds  the  duty  and  attention  which  they  owe  to  those  whom 
they  have  left  to  cultivate  their  demesnes.  I will  not  say  that  absence 
lessens  their  humanity,  or  that  the  superior  dissipation  which  they  enjoy  in 
it  contracts  their  feelings  to  coarser  enjoyments — without  this,  we  know 
that  agents  and  stewards  are  seldom  intrusted  with  full  powers  of  aiding 
and  remitting.  In  some,  compassion  would  be  injustice.  They  are,  in 
general,  content  with  the  virtue*  of  justice  and  punctuality  towards  their 
employer ; part  of  which  they  conceive  to  be  a rigorous  exaction  of  his 
rents,  and,  where  difficulty  occurs,  their  process  is  simply  to  distrain  and 
to  eject — a rigor  that  must  ever  be  prejudicial  to  an  estate,  and*  which, 
practised  frequently,  betrays  either  an  original  negligence,  or  want  of  judg- 
ment in  choosing  tenants,  or  an  extreme  inhumanity  towards  their  incidental 
miscarriages. 

“ But,  granting  an  undiminished  benevolence  to  exist  on  the  part  both 
• of  the  landlord  and  the  agent,  yet  can  we  expect  any  great  exertion  of 
pathetic  eloquence  to  proceed  from  the  latter  to  palliate  any  deficiency 
of  the  tenants? — or,  if  there  were,  do  wx  not  know  how  much  lighter  an 
impression  is  made  by  distresses  related  to  us  than  by  those  which  are 
' oculis  subjecia Jidelibus?'  The  heart,  the  seat  of  charity  and  compassion, 
is  more  accessible  to  the  senses  than  the  understanding.  Many,  w^ho  would 
be  unmoved  by  any  address  to  the  latter,  would  melt  into  charity  at  the 
eloquent  persuasion  of  silent  sorrow.  When  he  sees  the  widow’s  tear,  and 
hears  the  orphan’s  sigh,  every  one  will  act  with  a sudden  uniform  rec- 
titude, because  he  acts  from  the  divine  impulse  of  ‘ free  love  dealt  equally 
to  all.’  ” 

The  blind  selfishness  of  those  commercial  laws,  which  England 
so  long  imposed  upon  Ireland, — like  ligatures  to  check  the  cir- 
culation of  the  empire’s  life-blood, — is  thus  adverted  to  : 

‘‘  Though  I have  mentioned  the  dec'ay  of  trade  in  Ireland  as  insuflScient 
to  occasion  the  great  increase  of  emigration,  yet  is  it  to  be  considered  aa 


186 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


an  important  ill  effect,  arising  from  the  same  cause.  It  may  ho  said  that 
trade  is  now  in  higher  repute  in  Ireland,  and  that  the  exports  and  imports 
(which  are  always  supposed  the  test  of  it)  are  daily  increasing.  This  may 
be  admitted  to  be  true,  yet  cannot  it  be  said  that  the  trade  of  the  kingdom 
flourishes.  The  trade  of  a kingdom  should  increase  in  exact  proportion  to 
its  luxuries,  and  those  of  the  nations  connected  with  it.  Therefore  it  is  no 
argument  to  say,  that,  on  examining  the  accounts  of  customs  fifty  years 
back,  they  appear  to  be  trebled  now  ; for  England,  by  some  sudden  stroke, 
might  lose  such  a proportion  of  its  trade,  as  would  ruin  it  as  a commercial 
nation,  yet  the  amount  of  what  remained  might  be  tenfold  of  what  it  en 
joyed  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  Trade,  properly  speaking,  is  the 
commutations  of  the  product  of  each  country — this  extends  itself  to  the 
exchange  of  commodities  in  which  art  has  fixed  a price.  Where  a nation 
hath  free  power  to  export  the  works  of  its  industry,  the  balance  in  such 
articles  will  certainly  be  in  its  favor.  Thus  had  we  in  Ireland  power  to 
export  our  manufactured  silks,  stuffs,  and  woollens,  we  should  be  assured 
that  it  would  be  our  interest  to  import  and  cultivate  their  materials.  But, 
as  this,  is  not  the  case,  the  gain  of  individuals  is  no  proof  that  the  nation 
is  benefited  by  such  commerce.  For  instance,  the  exportation  of  un- 
wrought wmol  may  be  very  advantageous  to  the  dealer,  and,  through  his 
hands,  bring  money,  or  a beneficial  return  of  commodities  into  the  king- 
dom ; ’but  trace  the  ill  effects  of  depopulating  such  tracts  of  land  as  are 
necessary  for  the  support  of  flocks  to  supply  this  branch,  and  number  those 
who  are  deprived  of  support  and  employment  by  it,  and  so  become  a dead 
weight  on  the  community — we  shall  find  that  the  nation  in  fact  will  be  the 
poorer  for  this  apparent  advantage.  This  would  be  remedied  were  we 
allowed  to  export  it  manufactured  ; because  the  husbandinan  might  get  hi§ 
bread  as  a manufacturer. 

Another  principal  cause  that  the  trade  may  increase,  without  propor- 
tionally benefiting  the  nation,  is  that  a great  part  of  the  stock  which  car- 
ries on  the  foreign  trade  of  Ireland  belongs  to  those  who  reside  out  of  the 
country — thus  the  ultimate  and  material  profits  on  it  are  withdrawn  to 
another  kingdom.  It  is  likewise  to  be  observed,  that,  though  the  export- 
ations may  appear  to  exceed  the  importations,  yet  may  this  in  part  arise 
from  the  accounts  of  the  former  being  of  a more  certain  nature,  and  those 
of  the  latter  very  conjectural,  and  always  falling  short  of  the  fact.’’ 

Though  Mr.  Sheridan  afterwards  opposed  a Union  with  Ireland 
the  train  of  reasoning  which  he  pursued  in  this  pamphlet  natu- 
rally led  him  to  look  forward  to  such  an  arrangement  between 
the  two  countries,  as,  perhaps,  the  only  chance  of  solving  the 
long-existing  problem  of  their  relationship  to  each  other. 


EIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  187 


‘‘  It  is  the  state,  (he  continues,)  the  luxury,  and  fashions  of  the  wealthy, 
that  give  life  to  the  artificers  of  elegance  and  taste  it  is  their  numerous 
train  that  sends  the  rapid  shuttle  through  the  loom ; — and,  when  they 
leave  their  country,  they  not  only  beggar  these  dependents,  but  the  tribes 
that  lived  by  clothing  them. 

“ An  extravagant  passion  for  luxuries  hath  been  in  all  nations  a symp- 
tom of  an  approaching  dissolution.  However,  in  commercial  states,  while 
it  predominates  only  among  the  higher  ranks,  it  brings  with  it  the  con- 
ciliating advantage  of  being  greatly  beneficial  to  trade  and  manufactures. 
But,  how  singularly  unfortunate  is  that  kingdom,  where  the  luxurious  pas- 
sions of  the  great  beggar  those  who  should  be  supported  by  them, — a king- 
dom, whose  wealthy  members  keep  equal  pace  with  their  numbers  in  the 
dissipated  and  fantastical  pursuits  of  life,  without  suffering  the  lower  class 
to  glean  even  the  dregs  of  their  vices.  While  this  is  the  case  with  Ireland 
the  prosperity  of  her  trade  must  be  all  forced  and  unnatural ; and  if,  in 
the  absence  of  its  wealthy  and  estated  members,  the  state  already  feels  all 
the  disadvantages  of  a Union,  it  cannot  do  better  than  endeavor  at  a free 
trade  by  effecting  it  in  reality.’^ 

Having  demonstrated,  at  some  length,  the  general  evil  of  ab- 
senteeism, he  thus  proceeds  to  inquire  into  the  most  eligible 
remedy  for  it : — 

‘‘  The  evil  complained  of  is  simply  the  absence  of  the  proprietors  of  a 
certain  portion  of  the  landed  property.  This  is  an  evil  unprovided  against 
by  the  legislature  5 — therefore,  we  are  not  to  consider  whether  it  might  not 
with  propriety  have  been  guarded  against,  but  whether  a remedy  or  al- 
leviation of  it  can  now  be  attempted  consistently  with  the  spirit  of  the 
Constitution.  On  examining  all  the  most  obvious  methods  of  attempting 
this,  I believe  there  will  appear  but  two  practicable.  The  First  will  be  by 
enacting  a law  for  the  frequent  summoning  the  proprietors  of  landed  pro- 
perty to  appear  de  facto  at  stated  times.  The  Second  will  be  the  voting 
a supply  to  be  raised  from  the  estates  of  such  as  do  never  reside  in  the 
kingdom. 

“ The  First,  it  is  obvious,  would  be  an  obligation  of  no  use,  without  a 
penalty  was  affixed  to  the  breach  of  it,  amounting  to  the  actual  forfeiture 
of  the  etitate  of  the  recusant.  This,  we  are  informed,  was  once  the  case  in 
Ireland.  But  at  present,  whatever  advantage  the  kingdom  might  reap  by 
it,  it  could  not  possibly  be  reconciled  to  the  genius  of  the  Constitution  ; 
and,  if  the  fine  were  trifling,  it  would  prove  the  same  as  the  second  method, 
with  the  disadvantage  of  appearing  to  treat  as  an  act  of  delinquency  what 
in  no  way  infringes  the  municipal  laws  of  the  kingdom. 


188 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


In  the  Second  method  the  legislature  is,  in  no  respect,  to  be  supposed  to 
regard  the  person  of  the  Absentee.  It  prescribes  no  place  of  residence  to 
him,  nor  attempts  to  summon  or  detain  him.  The  light  it  takes  up  the 
point  in  is  this — that  the  welfare  of  the  whole  is  injured  by  the  produce  of 
a certain  portion  of  the  soil  being  sent  out  of  the  kingdom.  * * * it 

will  be  said  that  the  produce  of  the  soil  is  not  exported  by  being  carried  to 
our  own  markets ; but  if  the  value  received  in  exchange  for  it,  whatever  it 
be,  whether  money  or  commodities,  be  exported,  it  is  exactly  the  same  in 
its  ultimate  effects  as  if  the  grain,  flocks,  &c.  were  literally  sent  to  England. 
In  this  light,  then,  if  the  state  is  found  to  suffer  by  such  an  exportation, 
its  deducting  a small  part  from  the  produce  is  simply  a reimbursing  the 
public,  and  putting  the  loss  of  the  public  (to  whose  welfare  the  interest  of 
individuals  is  always  to  be  subservient)  upon  those  very  members  who 
occasion  that  loss. 

This  is  only  to  be  effected  by  a tax.^’ 

Though  to  a political  economist  of  the  present  day  much  of 
what  is  so  loosely  expressed  in  these  extracts  will  appear  hut 
the  crudities  of  a tyro  in  the  science,  yet,  at  the  time  when  they 
were  written, — when  both  Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Burke  could  expa 
tiate  on  the  state  of  Ireland,  without  a single  attempt  to  devel 
op  or  enforce  those  simple,  but  wise  principles  of  commercial 
policy,  every  one  of  which  had  been  violated  in  the  restrictions  on 
her  industry, — it  was  no  small  merit  in  Mr.  Sheridan  to  have 
advanced  even  thus  far  in  a branch  of  knowledge  so  rare  and  so 
important. 

In  addition  to  his  own  early  taste  for  politics,  the  intimacies 
which  he  had  now  formed  with  some  of  the  most  eminent  public 
men  of  the  day  must  have  considerably  tended  to  turn  his  am- 
bition in  that  direction.  At  what  time  he  first  became  acquaint- 
ed with  Mr,  Fox  I have  no  means  of  ascertaining  exactly. 
Among  the  letters  addressed  to  him  by  that  statesman,  there  is 
one  which,  from  the  formality  of  its  style,  must  have  been  writ- 
ten at  the  very  commencement  of  their  acquaintance — but,  un- 
luckily, it  is  not  dated.  Lord  John  Townshend,  who  first  had 
the  happiness  of  bringing  two  such  men  together,  has  given  the 
following  interesting  account  of  their  meeting,  and  of  the  impres- 
sions which  they  left  upon  the  minds  of  each  other.  His  lord- 
sbipi  however,  has  not  specified  the  period  of  this  introduction  :-rr 


RIGHT  HON.  RlCHARH  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  189 


“ I made  the  first  dinner-party  at  which  they  met,  having  told 
Fox  that  all  the  notions  he  might  have  conceived  of  Sheridan’s 
talents  and  genius  from  the  comedy  of  The  Rivals,  &c.  would 
fall  infinitely  short  of  the  admiration  of  his  astonishing  powers, 
which  I was  sure  he  would  entertain  at  the  first  interview.  The 
first  interview  between  them  (there  w^ere  very  few  present,  only 
Tickell  and  myself,  and  one  or  two  more)  I shall  never  forget. 
Fox  told  me,  after  breaking  up  from  dinner,  that  he  had  always 
thought*  Hare,  after  my  uncle,  Charles  Townshend,  the  wittiest 
man  he  ever  met  with,  but  that  Sheridan  surpassed  them  both 
infinitely  ; and  Sheridan  told  me  next  day  that  he  was  quite  lost 
in  admiration  of  Fox,  and  that  it  was  a puzzle  to  him  to  say 
what  he  admired  niost,  his  commanding  superiority  of  talent  and 
universal  knowledge,  or  his  playful  fancy,  artless  manners,  and 
benevolence  of  heart,  which  showed  itself  in  every  word  he  ut- 
tered.” 

With  Burke  Mr.  Sheridan  became  acquainted  at  the  celebrated 
Turk’s  Head  Club, — and,  if  any  incentive  was  wanting  to  his 
new  passion  for  political  distinction,  the  station  to  which  he  saw 
his  eloquent  fellow-countryman  exalted,  with  no  greater  claims 
from  birth  or  connection  than  his  own,  could  not  have  failed  to 
furnish  it.  His  intimacy  with  Mr.  Windham  began,  as  we 
have  seen,  very  early  at  Bath,  and  the  following  letter,  addressed 
to  him  by  that  gentleman  from  Norfolk,  in  the  year  1778,  is  a 
curious  record  not  only  of  the  first  political  movements  of  a 
person  so  celebrated  as  Mr.  Windham,  but  of  the  interest  with 
which  Sheridan  then  entered  into  the  public  measures  of  the 
day; — 

“ Jan,  5,  1778. 

‘‘  I fear  my  letter  will  greatly  disappoint  your  hopes.*  I have 

♦ Mr.  Windham  had  gone  down  to  Norfolk,  in  consequence  of  a proposed  meeting  in 
that  county,  under  the  auspices  of  Lord  Townshend,  for  the  purpose  of  raising  a sub- 
scription in  aid  of  government  to  be  applied  towards  carrying  on  the  war  with  the 
American  colonies.  In  about  three  weeks  after  the  date  of  this  letter,  the  meeting  was  held, 
and  Mr.  Windham,  m a spirited  answer  to  Lord  Townshend,  made  tlie  first  essay  of  his 
eloquence  in  public. 


190 


MEMOmS  OE  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


no  account  to  send  you  cf  my  answering  Lord  Townshend — of 
hard-fought  contests — spirited  resolves — ballads,  mobs,  cockades, 
and  Lord  North  burnt  in  effigy.  We  have  had  a bloodless  cam- 
paign, but  not  from  backwardness  in  our  troops,  but  for  the 
most  creditable  reason  that  can  be — want  of  resolution  in  the 
enemy  to  encounter  us.  When  I got  down  here  early  this 
morning,  expecting  to  find  a room  prepared,  a chair  set  for  the 
president,  and  nothing  wanting  but  that  the  orators  should  begin, 
I was  surprised  to  learn  that  no  advertisement  had  appe^ired  on 
the  other  part ; but  that  Lord  T.  having  dined  at  a meeting, 
where  the  proposal  was  received  very  coldly,  had  taken  fright, 
and  for  the  time  at  least  had  dropped  the  proposal.  It  had  ap- 
peared, therefore,  to  those  whom  I applied  to  (and  I think  very 
rightly)  that  till  an  advertisement  was  inserted  by  them,  or  was 
known  for  certain  to  be  intended,  it  would  not  be  proper  for  any 
thing  to  be  done  by  us.  In  this  state,  therefore,  it  rests.  The 
advertisement  which  we  agreed  upon  is  left  at  the  printer’s, 
ready  to  be  inserted  upon  the  appearance  of  one  from  them. 
We  lie  upon  our  arms,  and  shall  begin  to  act  upon  any  motion 
of  the  enemy.  I am  very  sorry  that  things  have  taken  this  turn, 
as  I came  down  in  full  confidence  of  being  able  to  accomplish 
something  distinguished.  I had  drawn  up,  as  I came  along,  a 
tolerably  good  paper,  to  be  distributed  to-morrow  in  the  streets, 
and  settled  pretty  well  in  my  head  the  terms  bf  a protest — be- 
sides some  pretty  smart  pieces  of  oratory,  delivered  upon  New- 
market Heath.  I never  felt  so  much  disposition  to  exert  my- 
self before — I hope  from  my  never  ha\dng  before  so  fliir  a pros- 
))ect  of  doing  it  with  success.  When  the  coach  comes  in,  I hope 
I shall  receive  a packet  from  you,  'svhich  shall  not  be  lost,  though 
it  may  not  be  used  immediately. 

“ I must  leave  off  writing,  for  I have  got  some  other  letters 
to  send  by  to-night’s  post.  Writing  in  this  ink  is  like  speaking 
with  respect  to  the  utter  annihilation  of  wffiat  is  past ; — by  the 
time  it  gets  to  you,  perhaps,  it  may  have  become  legible,  but  I 
have  no  chance  of  reading  over  my  letter  myself. 


RIGHT  HOK.  RICHARD  BRITSTSLEY  SHERIDAN.  191 

“ I shall  not  suffer  this  occasion  to  pass  over  entirely  without 
benefit. 

“ Believe  me  j vjurs  most  truly, 

“ W.  Windham. 

Tell  Mrs.  Sheridan  that  I hope  she  will*  have  a closet  ready, 
where  I may  remain  till  the  heat  of  the  pursuit  is  over.  My 
friends  in  France  have  promised  to  have  a vessel  ready  upon 
the  coast. 

**  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan,  Esq,, 

Queen  Street,  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields," 

The  first  political  service  rendered  by  Mr.  Sheridan  to  the 
party  with  whom  he  now  closely  connected  himself,  was  the  ac- 
tive share  which  he  took  in  a periodical  paper  called  The  English- 
man, set  up  by  the  Whigs  for  the  purpose  of  seconding,  out  of 
parliament,  the  crimination  and  invective  of  which  they  kept  up 
such  a brisk  fire  within.  The  intention,  as  announced  by  Sheri- 
dan in  the  first  Number,'^'  was,  like  Swift  in  the  Drapier’s  Let- 
ters, to  accommodate  the  style  of  the  publication  to  the  com- 
prehension of  persons  in  “ that  class  of  the  community,  who  are 
commonly  called  the  honest  and  mdustriousT  But  this  plan, — 
wFich  not  even  Swnft,  independent  as  was  his  humor  of  the  arti- 
fices of  style,  could  adhere  to, — w^as  soon  abandoned,  and  there 
is  in  most  of  Sheridan’s  own  papers  a finesse  and  ingenuity  of 
allusion,  which  only  the  most  cultivated  part  of  his  readers  could 
fully  enjoy.  For  instance,  in  exposing  the  inconsistency  of  Lord 
North,  who  had  lately  consented  in  a Committee  of  the  w^hole 
House,  to  a motion  which  he  had  violently  opposed  in  the  House 
itself, — thus  “making  (says  Sheridan)  that  respectable  assembly 
disobey  its  own  orders,  and  the  members  reject  with  contempt, 
under  the  form  of  a Chairman,  the  resolutions  they  had  imposed 
on  themselves  under  the  authority  of  a Speaker — he  proceeds 
in  a strain  of  refined  raillery,  as  little  suited  to  the  “ honest  and 
industrious”  class  of  the  community,  as  Swift’s  references  to 
Locke,  Molyneux,  and  Sydney,  were  to  the  readers  for  whom  he 
also  professed  to  write  : — 

♦ Published  13lh  of  March,  1779 


192 


MEMOIRS  01^  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


The  burlesque  of  any  plan,  I know,  is  rather  a recommendation  of  it 
to  Your  Lordship  ; and  the  ridicule  you  might  throw  on  this  assembly,  by 
continuing  to  support  this  Athanasian  distinction  of  powers  in  the  unity  of 
an  apparently  corporate  body,  might  in  the  end  compensate  to  you  for  the 
discredit  you  have  incuri^ed  in  the  attempt. 

A deliberative  body  of  so  uncommon  a form^  would  probably  be 
deemed  a kind  of  state  monster  by  the  ignorant  and  the  vulgar.  This 
might  at  first  increase  their  awe  for  it,  and  so  far  counteract  Your  Lord- 
ship’s intentions.  They  would  probably  approach  it  with  as  much  reve- 
rence as  Stephano  does  the  monster  in  the  Tempest ; — ‘ What,  one  body 
and  two  voices — a most  delicate  monster!’  However,  they  would  soon 
grow  familiarized  to  it,  and  probably  hold  it  in  as  little  respect  as  they 
were  wished  to  do.  They  would  find  it  on  many  occasions  ^ a very  shallow 
monster,’  and  particularly  ‘ a most  poor  credulous  monster,’ — while  Your 
Lordship,  as  keeper,  would  enjoy  every  advantage  and  profit  that  could  be 
made  of  it.  You  would  have  the  benefit  of  the  two  voices,  which  would  be 
the  monster’s  great  excellencies,  and  would  be  peculiarly  serviceable  to 
Your  Lordship.  With  ^ the  forward  voice  ’ you  would  aptly  promulgate 
those  vigorous  schemes  and  productive  resources,  in  which  Your  Lordship’s 
fancy  is  so  pregnant ; while  ‘ the  backward  voice  ’ might  be  kept  solely  for 
recantation.  The  monster,  to  maintain  its  character,  must  appear  no  novice 
in  the  science  of  fiattery,  or  in  the  talents  of  servility, — and  while  it  could 
never  scruple  to  bear  any  burdens  Your  Lordship  should  please  to  lay  on 
it,  you  would  always,  on  the  approach  of  a storm,  find  a shelter  under  its 
gabardine.” 

The  most  celebrated  of  these  papers  was  the  attack  upon  Lord 
George  Germaine,  written  also  by  Mr.  Sheridan, — a composition 
which,  for  unaffected  strength  of  style  and  earnestness  of  feeling, 
may  claim  a high  rank  among  the  models  of  political  vitu- 
peration. To  every  generation  its  own  contemporary  press 
seems  always  more  licentious  than  any  that  had  preceded  it ; 
but  it  may  be  questioned,  whether  the  boldness  of  modern  libel 
has  ever  gone  beyond  the  direct  and  undisguised  personality, 
with  which  one  cabinet  minister  was  called  a liar  and  another  a 
coward,  in  this  and  other  writings  of  the  popular  party  at  that 
period.  The  following  is  the  concluding  paragraph  of  this  paper 
against  Lord  George  Germaine,  which  is  in  the  form  of  a Letter 
to  the  Freeholders  of  England  : — 

“ It  would  be  presuming  too  much  on  your  attention,  at  present,  to 


KiGST  HON.  RICHARE  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  193 


enter  into  an  investigation  of  the  measures  and  system  of  war  which  this 
minister  has  pursued, — these  shall  certainly  he  the  subject  of  a future  paper. 
At  present  I shall  only  observe  that,  however  mortifying  it  may  be  to  re- 
flect on  the  ignominy  and  disasters  which  this  inauspicious  character  has 
brought  on  his  country,  yet  there  are  consoling  circumstances  to  be  drawn 
even  from  his  ill  success.  The  calamities  which  may  be  laid  to  his  account 
are  certainly  great;  but,  had  the  case  been  otherwise,  it  may  fairly  be 
questioned  whether  the  example  of  a degraded  and  reprobated  officer  (pre- 
posterously elevated  to  one  of  the  first  stations  of  honor  and  confidence  in 
the  state)  directing  the  military  enterprises  of  this  country  with  unlooked- 
for  prosperity,  might  not  ultimately  be  the  cause  of  more  extensive  evils 
than  even  those,  great  as  they  are,  which  we  at  present  experience  : whe- 
ther from  so  fatal  a precedent  we  might  not  be  led  to  introduce  characters 
under  similar  disqualifications  into  every  department : — to  appoint  Atheists 
to  the  mitre,  Jews  to  the  exchequer, — to  select  a treasury-bench  from  the 
Justitia,  to  place  Brown  Dignam  on  the  wool-sack,  and  Sir  Hugh  Palliser 
at  the  head  of  the  admiralty.’^ 

The  Englishman,  as  might  be  expected  from  the  pursuits  and 
habits  of  those  concerned  in  it,  was  not  very  punctually  con- 
ducted, and  after  many  apologies  from  the  publisher  for  its  not 
pearing  at  the  stated  times,  (Wednesdays  and  Saturdays,)  cease 
altogether  on  the  2d  of  June.  From  an  imperfect  sketch  of  a 
new  Number,  found  among  Mr.  Sheridan’s  manuscripts,  it  ap- 
pears that  there  was  an  intention  of  reviving  it  a short  time  after 
— probably  towards  the  autumn  of  the  same  year,  from  the  fol- 
lowing allusion  to  Mr.  Gibbon,  whose  acceptance  of  a seat  at 
the  Board  of  Trade  took  place,  if  I recollect  right,  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1779  : — 

This  policy  is  very  evident  among  the  majority  in  both  houses,  who, 
though  they  make  no  scruple  in  private  to  acknowledge  the  total  inca- 
pacity of  ministers,  yet,  in  public,  speak  and  vote  as  if  they  believed  them 
to  have  every  virtue  under  heaven  ; and,  on  this  principle,  some  gentle- 
men,— as  Mr.  Gibbon,  for  instance, — while,  in  private,  they  indulge  their 
opinion  pretty  freely,  will  yet,  in  their  zeal  for  the  public  good,  even  con- 
descend to  accept  a place,  in  order  to  give  a color  to  their  confidence  in 
the  wisdom  of  the  government.’’ 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Mr.  Sheridan  had  been  for  some 
time  among  the  most  welcome  guests  at  Devonshire  House — 

VOL.  I.  9 


194  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

that  rendezvous  of  all  the  wits  and  beauties  of  foshioiiable  life, 
w’^here  Politics  was  taught  to  wear  its  most  attractive  form,  and 
sat  enthroned,  like  Virtue  among  the  Epicureans,  with  all  the 
graces  and  pleasures  for  handmaids. 

Without  any  disparagement  of  the  manly  and  useful  talents, 
w hich  are  at  present  no  where  more  conspicuous  than  in  the  up- 
per ranks  of  society,  it  may  be  owmed  that  for  wdt,  social  pow- 
ers, and  literary  accomplishments,  the  political  men  of  the  pe- 
riod under  consideration  formed  such  an  assemblage  as  it  would 
be  flattery  to  say  that  our  owm  times  can  parallel.  The  natural 
tendency  of  the  excesses  of  the  French  Revolution  was  to  pro- 
duce in  the  higher  classes  of  England  an  increased  reserve  of 
manner,  and,  of  course,  a proportionate  restraint  on  all  wdthin 
their  circle,  which  have  been  fatal  to  conviviality  and  humor, 
and  not  very  propitious  to  wit — subduing  both  manners  and  con- 
versation to  a sort  of  polished  level,  to  rise  above  wdiich  is  often 
thoiLp-ht  almost  as  vulgar  as  to  sink  below  it.  Of  the  greater 
•.  i manners  that  existed  some  forty  or  fifty  years  ago,  one 
^ iiiig,  but  not  the  less  significant,  indication  w- as  the  habit,  then 
prevalent  among  men  of  high  station,  of  calling  each  other  by 
such  familiar  names  as  Dick,  Jack,  Tom,  &c."^ — a mode  of  ad- 
dress that  brings  wfith  it,  in  its  very  sound,  the  notion  of  con- 
viviality and  playfulness,  and,  however  unrefined,  implies,  at 
least,  that  ease  and  sea-room^  in  wTich  wit  spreads  its  canvas 
most  fearlessly. 

With  respect  to  literary  accomplishments,  too, — in  one  branch 
of  w^hich,  poetry,  almost  all  the  leading  politicians  of  that  day 
distinguished  themselves — -the  change  that  has  taken  place  in  the 
times,  independently  of  any  w^ant  of  such  talent,  wfill  fully  ac- 
count for  the  difference  that  w^e  witness,  in  this  respect,  at  present. 
As  the  public  mind  becomes  more  intelligent  and  w^ atchful,  states- 
men can  the  less  afford  to  trifle  with  their  talents,  or  to  bring 
suspicion  upon  their  fitness  for  their  ow  n vocation,  by  the  fail- 
ures which  they  risk  in  deviating  into  others.  Besides,  in  poetry, 


♦ Dick  Slieridaiij  Ned  Burke,  Jack  Townsheiid,  Tom  Grenville,  &c.  &c. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  195 


the  temptation  of  distinction  no  longer  exists — the  commonness 
of  that  talent  in  the  market,  at  present,  being  such  as  to  reduce 
the  value  of  an  elegant  copy  of  verses  very  far  below  the  price 
it  was  at,  when  Mr.  Hayley  enjoyed  an  almost  exclusive  monop- 
oly of  the  article. 

In  the  clever  Epistle,  by  Tickell,  ‘‘from  the  Hon.  Charles  Fox, 
partridge-shooting,  to  the  Hon.  John  To wnshend,  cruising,”  some 
of  the  most  shining  persons  in  that  assemblage  of  wits  and  states- 
men, who  gave  a lustre  to  Brooks’s  Club-House  at  the  period  of 
which  we  are  speaking,  are  thus  agreeably  grouped  : — 

“ Soon  as  to  Brooks’s*  thence  thy  footsteps  bend, 

What  gratulations  thy  approach  attend ! 

See  Gibbon  rap  his  box — auspicious  sign 
That  classic  compliment  and  wit  combine  ; 

See  Beauclerk’s  cheek  a tinge  of  red  surprise, 

And  friendship  give  what  cruel  health  denies  ; — 
***** 

* * * ♦ * 

On  that  auspicious  night,  supremely  grac’d 
With  chosen  guests,  the  pride  of  liberal  taste, 

^ Not  in  contentious  heat,  nor  madd’ning  strife. 

Not  with  the  busy  ills,  nor  cares  of  life. 

We’ll  waste  the  fleetiog  hours — far  happier  themes 
Shall  claim  each  thought  and  chase  ambition’s  dreams. 

Each  beauty  that  sublimity  can  boast 
He  best  shall  tell,  who  still  unites  them  most. 

Of  wit,  of  taste,  of  fancy  we’ll  debate, 

If  Sheridan,  for  once,  be  not  too  late  : 

But  scarce  a thought  on  politics  we’ll  spare, 

Unless  on  Polish  politics,  with  Hare. 

Good-natur’d  Devon ! oft  shall  then  appear 
The  cool  complacence  of  thy  friendly  sneer : 

* The  well-known  lines  on  Brooks  himself  are  perhaps  the  perfection  of  this  drawing 
rof'm  style  of  humor  : — 

“ And  know,  I’ v^e  bought  the  best  cliampagne  from  Brooks  ; 

From  liberal  Brooks,  whose  speculative  skill 
Is  hasty  credit,  and  a distant  bill  ; 

Who,  nurs'd  in  clubs,  disdains  a ^allgar  trade. 

Exults  to  trust,  and  blushes  to  be  paid.” 


196 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Oft  shall  Fitzpati'ick’s  wit  and  Stanhope’s  ease 
And  Burgojne’s  manly  sense  unite  to  please. 

And  while  each  guest  attends  our  varied  feats 
Of  scattered  covies  and  retreating  fleets, 

Me  shall  they  wish  some  better  sport  to  gain, 

And  Thee  more  glory,  from  the  next  campaign.” 

In  the  society  of  such  men  the  destiny  of  Mr.  Sheridan  could 
not  be  long  in  fixing.  On  the  one  side,  his  own  keen  thirst  for 
distinction,  and  on  the  other,  a quick  and  sanguine  appreciation 
of  the  service  that  such  talents  might  render  in  the  warfare  of 
party,  could  not  fail  to  hasten  the  result  that  both  desired. 

His  first  appearance  before  the  public  as  a political  character 
was  in  conjunction  with  Mr.  Fox,  at  the  beginnmg  of  the  year 
1780,  when  the  famous  Resolutions  on  the  State  of  the  Repre- 
sentation, signed  by  Mr.  Fox  as  chairman  of  the  Westminster 
Committee,  together  with  a Report  on  the  same  subject  from  the 
Sub-committee,  signed  by  Sheridan,  were  laid  before  the  public. 
Annual  Parliaments  and  Universal  Suffrage  were  the  professed 
objects  of  this  meeting;  and  the  first  of  the  Resolutions,  sub- 
scribed by  Mr.  Fox,  stated  that  ‘‘Annual  Parliaments  are  the 
undoubted  right  of  the  people  of  England.” 

Notwithstanding  this  strong  declaration,  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  Sheridan  was,  any  more  than  Mr.  Fox,  a very  sincere 
friend  to  the  principle  of  Reform ; and  the  manner  in  which  he 
masked  his  disinclination  or  indifference  to  it  was  strongly  cha- 
racteristic both  of  his  humor  and  his  tact.  Aware  that  the  wild 
scheme  of  CartvTight  and  others,  which  these  resolutions  recom- 
mended, was  wholly  impracticable,  he  always  took  refuge  in  it 
when  pressed  upon  the  subject,  and  would  laughingly  advise  his 
political  friends  to  do  the  same : — “ Whenever  any  one,”  he 
would  say,  “ proposes  to  you  a specific  plan  of  Reform,  always 
\ answer  that  you  are  for  nothing  short  of  Annual  Parliaments 
and  Universal  Suffrage — there  you  are  safe.”  He  also  had  evi- 
dent delight,  when  talking  on  this  question,  in  referring  to  a 
jest  of  Burke,  who  said  that  there  had  arisen  a new  party  of  Re- 
formers, still  more  orthodox  than  the  rest  who  thought  Annual 


EIGHT  HON.  EICHAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  197 


Parliaments  far  from  being  sufficiently  frequent,  and  who,  found- 
ing themselves  upon  the  latter  words  of  the  statute  of  Edward 
III.,  that  “ a parliament  shall  be  holden  every  year  once  and 
more  often  if  n^ed  hef  were  known  by  the  denomination  of  the 
Oftener-if  need-hes,  “ For  my  part,”  he  would  add,  in  relating 
this,  “ I am  an  Oflener-if-need-be.”  Even  when  most  serious  on 
the  subject  (for,  to  the  last  he  professed  himself  a warm  friend 
to  Reform)  his  arguments  had  the  air  of  being  ironical  and  in- 
sidious. To  Annual  Parliaments  and  Universal  Suffrage,  he 
would  say,  the  principles  of  representation  naturally  and  neces- 
sarily led, — any  less  extensive  proposition  was  a base  compro- 
mise and  a dereliction  of  right ; and  the  first  encroachment  on 
the  people  was  the  Act  of  Henry  VI.,  which  limited  the  power 
of  election  to  forty-shilling  freeholders  within  the  county,  whereas 
the  real  right  was  in  the  “ outrageous  and  excessive”  number  of 
people  by  whom  the  preamble  recites^  that  the  choice  had  been 
made  of  late. — Such  were  the  arguments  by  which  he  affected  to 
support  his  cause,  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  detect  the  eyes  of  the 
snake  glistening  from  under  them. 

The  dissolution  of  parliament  that  took  place  in  the  autumn  of 
this  year  (1780)  afforded  at  lengtn  Y i,  -^ppoi ounity  to  which  ms 
ambition  haa  so  eagerly  looked  forward.  It  has  been  said,  I 
know  not  with  what  accuracy,  that  he  first  tried  his  chance  of 
election  at  Honiton — but  Stafford  was  the  place  destined  to  have 
the  honor  of  first  cnoosing  him  for  its  representative ; and  it 
must  have  been  no  small  gratification  to  his  independent  spirit, 
that,  unfurnished  as  he  was  with  claims  from  past  political 
services,  he  appeared  in  parliament,  not  as  the  nominee  of  any 
aristocratic  patron,  but  as  member  for  a borough,  which,  what- 
ever might  be  its  purity  in  other  respects,  at  least  enjoyed  the 
freedoih  of  choice.  Elected  conjointly  with  Mr.  Monckton,  to 
whose  interest  and  exertions  he  chiefly  owed  his  success,  he 
took  his  seat  in  the  new  parliament  which  met  in  the  month  of 


* “Elections  of  knights  of  shires  have  now  of  late  been  made  by  very  great  outra- 
geous and  excessive  number  of  people,  dwelling  within  the  same  counties,  of  the  which 
most  part  was  peopD  of  small  substaince  and  of  no  value.”  8 H.  6.  c. 


198 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


October  ; — and,  from  that  moment  giving  himself  up  to  the  pur- 
suit of  politics,  bid  adieu  to  the  worship  of  the  Dramatic  Muse 
for  ever. 

Comcedia  luget ; 

Scena  est  deserta : hinc  Indus  rimsque  jocusque 
Et  numeri  innumeri  shnul  omnes  collacrumarunV^ 

Comedy  mourns — the  Stage  neglected  sleeps — 

E^en  Mirth  in  tears  his  languid  laughter  steeps — 

And  Song,  through  all  her  various  empire,  weeps. 


R^.GHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  199 


CHAPTER  VII. 

UNFINISHED  PLAYS  AND  POEMS. 

Before  I enter  upon  the  sketch  of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  political 
life,  I shall  take  this  opportunity  of  laying  before  the  reader 
such  information  with  respect  to  his  unfinished  literary  designs, 
both  iramatic  and  poetic,  as  the  papers  in  my  possession  enable 
me  to  communicate. 

Some  of  his  youthful  attempts  in  literature  have  already  been 
mentioned,  and  there  is  a dramatic  sketch  of  his,  founded  on  the 
Vicar  of  Wakefield,  which  from  a date  on  the  manuscript  (1768), 
appears  to  have  been  produced  at  a still  earlier  age,  and  when 
he  was  only  in  his  seventeenth  year.  A scene  of  this  piece  will 
be  sufficient  to  show  how  very  soon  his  talent  for  lively  dialogue 
displayed  itself : — 

“Scene  II. 

“Thornhill  and  Arnold. 

“ Thornhill.  Nay,  prithee,  Jack,  no  more  of  that  if  you  love  me.  What, 
shall  I stop  short  with  the  game  in  full  view?  Faith,  I believe  the  fel- 
low’s turned  puritan.  What  think  you  of  turning  methodist,  Jack?  You 
have  a tolerable  good  canting  countenance,  and,  if  escaped  being  taken  up, 
for  a Jesuit,  you  might  make  a fortune  in  Moor-fields. 

“ Arnold.  I was  serious,  Tom. 

“ Thorn.  Splenetic  you  mean.  Come,  fill  your  glass,  and  a truce  to 
your  preaching.  Here’s  a pretty  fellow  has  let  his  conscience  sleep  for 
these  five  years,  and  has  now  plucked  morality  from  the  leaves  of  his 
grandmother’s  bible,  beginning  to  declaim  against  what  he  has  practised 
half  his  life-time.  Why,  I tell  you  once  more,  my  schemes  are  all  come  to 
perfection.  I am  now  convinced  Olivia  loves  me — at  our  last  conversa- 
tion, she  said  she  would  rely  wholly  on  my  honor. 

“ Arn.  And  therefore  you  would  deceive  her. 

Thorn.  Why  no — deceive  her? — why — indeed — ^s  to  that — but— -but, 


200 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


for  Gcd^s  sake,  let  me  hear  no  more  on  this  subject,  for,  ’faith,  you  make 
me  sad.  Jack.  If  you  continue  your  admonitions,  I shall  be^in  to  think 
you  have  yourself  an  eye  on  the  girl.  You  have  promised  me  your  assist- 
ance, and  when  you  came  down  into  the  country,  were  as  hot  on  the 
scheme  as  myself;  but,  since  you  have  been  two  or  three  times  with  me  at 
Primrose’s,  you  have  fallen  off  strangely.  No  encroachments.  Jack,  on  my 
little  rose-bud — if  you  have  a mind  to  beat  up  game  in  this  quarter,  there’s 
her  sister — but  no  poaching. 

“ Am  I am  not  insensible  to  her  sister’s  merit,  but  have  no  such  views 
as  you  have.  However,  you  have  promised  me  that  if  you  find  in  this  lady 
that  real  virtue  which  you  so  firmly  deny  to  exist  in  the  sex,  you  will  give 
up  the  pursuit,  and,  foregoing  the  low  considerations  of  fortune,  make 
atonement  by  marriage. 

Thom.  Such  is  my  serious  resolution. 

“ A rn.  I wish  you’d  forego  the  experiment.  But,  you  have  been  so  much 
in  raptures  with  your  success,  that  I have,  as  yet,  had  no  clear  account 
how  you  came  acquainted  in  the  family. 

Thorn,  Oh,  I’ll  tell  you  immediately.  You  know  Lady  Patchet? 

Am,  What,  is  she  here  ? 

“ Thom,  It  was  by  her  I was  first  introduced.  It  seems  that,  last  year, 
her  ladyship’s  reputation  began  to  suffer  a little  ; so  that  she  thought  it 
prudent  to  retire  for  a while,  till  people  learned  better  manners  or  got 
worse  memories.  She  soon  became  acquainted  with  this  little  family,  and, 
as  the  wife  is  a prodigious  admirer  of  quality,  grew  in  a short  time  to  be 
very  intimate,  and  imagining  that  she  may  one  day  make  her  market  of  the 
girls,  has  much  ingratiated  herself  with  them.  She  introduced  me — I 
drank,  and  abused  this  degenerate  age  with  the  father — promised  wonders 
to  the  mother  for  all  her  brats — praised  her  gooseberry  wine,  and  ogled 
the  daughters,  by  which  means  in  three  days  I made  the  progress  I related 
to  you. 

Am.  You  have  been  expeditious  indeed.  I fear  where  that  devil  Lady 
Patchet  is  concerned  there  can  be  no  good — but  is  there  not  a son  ? 

Thom.  Oh ! the  most  ridiculous  creature  in  nature.  He  has  been  bred 
in  the  country  a bumpkin  all  his  life,  till  within  these  six  years,  when  he  was 
sent  to  the  University,  but  the  misfortunes  that  have  reduced  his  father  fall- 
ing out,  he  is  returned,  the  most  ridiculous  animal  you  ever  saw,  a conceit- 
ed, disputing  blockhead.  So  there  is  no  great  matter  to  fear  from  his 
penetration.  But  come,  let  us  begone,  and  see  this  moral  family,  we  shall 
meet  them  coming  from  the  field,  and  you  will  see  a man  who  was  once  in 
affluence,  maintaining  by  hard  labor  a numerous  family. 

Arn.  Oh ! Thornhill,  can  you  wish  to  add  infamy  to  their  poverty  ? 

“ [Exeunt 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  201 


There  also  remain  among  his  papers  three  Acts  of  a Drama, 
without  a name, — written  evidently  in  haste,  and  with  scarcely 
any  correction, — the  subject  of  which  is  so  wild  and  unmanage- 
able, that  I should  not  have  hesitated  in  referring  it  to  the  same 
early  date,  had  not  the  introduction  into  one  of  the  scenes  of 
“ Dry  be  that  tear,  be  hush’d  that  sigh,”  proved  it  to  have  been 
produced  after  that  pretty  song  was  written. 

The  chief  personages  upon  whom  the  story  turns  are  a band 
of  outlaws,  who,  under  the  name  and  disguise  of  Devils^  have 
taken  up  their  residence  in  a gloomy  wood,  adjoining  a village, 
the  inhabitants  of  which  they  keep  in  perpetual  alarm  by  their 
incursions  and  apparitions.  In  the  same  wood  resides  a hermit, 
secretly  connected  with  this  band,  who  keeps  secluded  within 
his  cave  the  beautiful  Eeginilla,  hid  alike  from  the  light  of  the 
sun  and  the  eyes  of  men.  She  has,  however,  been  indulged  in 
her  prison  with  a glimpse  of  a handsome  young  huntsman, 
whom  she  believes  to  be  a phantom,  and  is  encouraged  in  her 
belief  by  the  hermit,  by  whose  contrivance  this  huntsman  (a 
prince  in  disguise)  has  been  thus  presented  to  her.  The  follow- 
ing is — as  well  as  I can  make  it  out  from  a manuscript  not  easi- 
ly decipherable — the  scene  that  takes  place  between  the  fair  re- 
cluse and  her  visitant.  The  style,  where  style  is  attempted, 
shows,  as  the  reader  will  perceive,  a taste  yet  immature  and  un- 
chastened : — 

Scene  draws,  and  discovers  Regdulla  asleep  in  the  .cave, 

“ Enter  Peyidor  and  other  Devils,  with  the  Huntsman — unhind  him, 
and  exeunt, 

Hunts.  Ha!  Where  am  I now?  Is  it  indeed  the  dread  abode  of  guilt, 
or  refuge  of  a band  of  thieves?  it, cannot  be  a dream  {sees  Reginilla.)  Ha ! 
if  this  be  so,  and  I do  dream,  may  I never  wake — it  is — ^my  beating  heart 
acknowledges  my  dear,  gentle  Reginilla.  Idl  not  wake  her,  lest,  if  it  be  a 
phantom,  it  should  vanish.  Oh,  balmy  breath ! but  for  thy  soft  sighs  that 

come  to  tell  me  it  is  no  image,  I should  believe {hends  down  towards 

her.)  a sigh  from  her  heart  ! — thus  let  me  arrest  tliee  on  thy  way.  {kisses 
her.)  A deeper  blush  has  flushed  her  cheek — sweet  modesty ! that  even  in 
sleep  is  conscious  and  resentful.  -She  will  not  wake,  and  yet  some  fancy 
yoL.  I,  9^ 


202 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


calls  up  those  frequent  sighs — how  her  heart  beats  in  its  ivory  cage,  like 
an  imprisoned  bird — or  as  if  to  reprove  the  hand  that  dares  approach  its 
sanctuary ! Oh,  would  she  but  wake,  and  bless  this  gloom  with  her  bright 
eyes! — Soft,  here’s  a lute — perhaps  her  soul  will  hear  the  call  of  harmony. 

* Oh  yield,  fair  lids,  the  treasures  of  my  heart, 

Release  those  beams,  that  make  this  mansion  bright-; 

From  her  sweet  sense.  Slumber ! tho’  sweet  thou  art, ' 

Begone,  and  give  the  air  she  breathes  in  light. 

Or  while,  oh  Sleep,  thou  dost  those  glances  hide, 

Let  rosy  slumbers  still  around  her  play. 

Sweet  as  the  cherub  Innocence  enjoy’d. 

When  in  thy  lap,  new-born,  in  smiles  he  lay. 

“ And  thou,  oh  Dream,  that  com’st  her  sleep  to  cheer. 

Oh  take  my  shape,  and  play  a lover’s  part ; 

Kiss  her  from  me,  and  whisper  in  her  ear. 

Till  her  eyes  shine,  ’tis  night  within  my  heart. 

“ Reg,  {waking,)  The  phantom,  father  1 {seizes  his  hand.)  ah,  do  not, 
do  not  wake  me  then,  {rises.) 

“ Hunts,  {kneeling  to  her.)  Thou  beauteous  sun  of  this  dark  world,  that 
mak’st  a place,  so  like  the  cave  of  death,  a heaven  to  me,  instruct  me^how 
I may  approach  thee — how  address  thee  and  not  offend. 

“ Reg.  Oh  how  my  soul  would  hang  upon  those  lips ! speak  on — and  yet, 
methinks,  he  should  not  kneel  so — why  are  you  afraid,  Sir?  indeed,  I can- 
not hurt  you. 

Hunts.  Sweet  innocence,  I’m  sure  thou  would’st  not. 

Reg.  Art  thou  not  he  to  whom  I told  my  name,  and  didst  thou  not  say 
thine  was — 

Hunts.  Oh  blessed  be  the  name  that  then  thou  told’st — it  has  been  ever 
since  my  charm,  and  kept  me  from  distraction.  But,  may  I ask  how  such 
sw’eet  excellence  as  thine  could  be  hid  in  such  a place  ? 

Reg.  Alas,  I know  not — for  such  as  thou  I never  saw  before,  nor  any 
like  myself. 

Hunts.  Nor  like  thee  ever  shall^ — but  would’st  thou  leave  this  place, 
and  live  with  such  as  I am  ? 

♦ I have  taken  the  liberty  here  of  suiiplying  a few  rhymes  and  words  that  are  want- 
ing in  the  original  copy  of  the  song.  The  last  line  of  all  runs  thus  in  the  manuscript : — 

“ Till  lier  eye  shines  I live  in  darkest  night,” 
which,  not  rhyming  as  it  ought,  I have  ventured  to  alter  as  above. 


EIGHT  HOH.  EICHAED  BEINSLEY  SHEKIDAN.  203 


Reg.  Vfhj  may  not  you  live  here  with  such  as  I? 

“ Hunts.  A"es — but  I ’^vould  carry  thee  where  all  above  an  azure  canopy 
extends,  at  night  bedropt  with  gems,  and  one  more  glorious  lamp,  that 
yields  such  bashful  light  as  love  enjoys — while  underneath,  a carpet  shall 
be  spread  of  flowers  to  court  the  pressui’e  of  thy  step,  with  such  sweet 
whispered  invitations  from  the  leaves  of  shady  groves  or  murmuring  of 
silver  streams,  that  thou  shalt  think  thou  art  in  Paradise. 

Reg.  Indeed! 

Hunts.  Ay,  and  I’ll  watch  and  wait  on  thee  all  day,  and  cull  the 
choicest  flowers,  which  while  thou  bind’st  in  the  mysterious  knot  of  love, 
I’ll  tune  for  thee  no  vulgar  lays,  or  tell  thee  tales  shall  make  thee  weep 
yet  please  thee — while  thus  I press  thy  hand,  and  warm  it  thus  with  kisses. 

“ Reg.  I doubt  thee  not — but  then  my  Governor  has  told  me  many  a tale 
of  faithless  men  who  court  a lady  but  to  steal  her  peace  and  fame,  and  then 
to  leave  her. 

Hunts.  Oh  never  such  as  thou  art — witness  all 

“ Reg.  Then  wherefore  couldst  thou  not  live  here  ? For  I do  feel,  tho’ 
tenfold  darkness  did  surround  this  spot,  I could  be  blest,  would  you  but 
stay  here  ; and,  if  it  made  you  sad  to  be  imprison’d  thus,  I’d  sing  and  play 
for  thee,  and  dress  thee  sweetest  fruits,  and  though  you  chid  me,  would 
kiss  thy  tear  away  and  hide  my  blushing  face  upon  thy  bosom — indeed,  I 
would.  Then  what  avails  the  gaudy  day,  and  all  the  evil  ihings  I’m  told 
inhabit  there,  to  those  who  have  within  themselves  all  that  delight  and 
love,  and  heaven  can  give. 

“ Hunts.  My  angel,  thou  hast  indeed  the  soul  of  love. 

Reg.  It  is  no  ill  thing,  is  it  ? 

Hunts.  Oh  most  divine — it  is  the  immediate  gift  of  heaven,  which 
steals  into  our  breast  ******* 

* * * ******* 

’tis  that  which  makes  me  sigh  thus,  look  thus — fear  and  tremble  for  thee. 

“ Reg.  Sure  I should  learn  it  too,  if  you  would  teach  me. 

{Sound  of  horn  without — Huntsman  starts. 

‘ Reg.  You  must  not  go — this  is  but  a dance  preparing  for  my  amuse- 
ment— oh  we  have,  indeed,  some  pleasures  here — come,  I will  sing  for  you 
the  while. 

“ Song. 

Wilt  thou  then  leave  me  ? canst  thou  go  from  me. 

To  woo  the  fair  that  love  the  gaudy  day  ? 

Yet,  e’en  among  those  joys,  thouTt  find  that  sue, 

Who  dwells  in  darkness,  loves  thee  more  than  they. 

For  these  poor  hands,  and  these  unpractised  eyes. 

And  this  poor  heart  is  thine  without  disguise^ 


204 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


**  But,  if  thoult  stay  with  me,  my  only  care 

Shall  be  to  please  and  make  thee  love  to  stay, 

With  music,  song,  and  dance  * ♦ ♦ 

:»(******** 

But,  if  you  go,  nor  music,  song,  nor  dance, 

**  If  thou  art  studious,  I will  read 
Thee  tales  of  pleasing  woe — 

If  thou  art  sad,  1*11  kiss  away 
The  tears that  flow. 

If  thou  would’st  play,  V\\  kiss  thee  till  I blush, 

Then  hide  that  blush  upon  thy  breast. 

If  thou  would’st  sleep 

Shall  rock  thy  aching  head  to  rest. 

‘‘  Hunts,  My  souFs  wonder,  I will  never  leave  thee. 

“ {The  Dance. — Allemande  hy  tioo  Bears.) 

“ Enter  Pevidor. 

“Pev.  So  fond,  so  soon!  I cannot  bear  to  see  it.  What  fio,  within 
{Devils  enter ^ secure  him.  {Seize  and  hind  the  Huntsman. 

Tlie  Duke  or  sovereign  of  the  country,  where  these  events  are 
supposed  to  take  place,  arrives  at  the  head  of  a military  force, 
for  the  purpose  of  investing  the  haunted  wood,  and  putting  down, 
as  he  says,  those  “ lawless  renegades,  who,  in  infernal  masque- 
rade, make  a hell  around  him.”  He  is  also  desirous  of  consult- 
ing  the  holy  hermit  of  the  wood,  and  availing  himself  of  his  pious 
consolations  and  prayers — being  haunted  with  remorse  for  having 
criminally  gained  possession  of  the  crown  by  contriving  the 
shipwreck  of  the  rightful  heir,  and  then  banishing  from  the  court 
his  most  virtuous  counsellors.  In  addition  to  these  causes  of  dis- 
quietude, he  has  lately  lost,  in  a mysterious  manner,  his  only  son, 
who,  he  supposes,  has  Mien  a victim  to  these  Satanic  outlaws, 
but  who,  on  the  contrary,  it  appears,  has  voluntarily  become  an 
associate  of  their  band,  and  is  amusing  himself,  heedless  of  his 
pob^e  father’s  sorrow,  by  making  love,  in  the  disguise  of  a dap- 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  206 

cing  bear,  to  a young  village  coquette  of  the  name  of  Mopsa, 
A short  specimen  of  the  manner  in  which  this  last  farcical  inci- 
dent is  managed,  will  show  how  wide  even  Sheridan  was,  at  first, 
of  that  true  vein  of  comedy,  which,  on  searching  deeper  into  the 
mine,  he  so  soon  afterwards  found  : — 

Scene. — The  Inside  of  the  Cottage, — Mopsa,  Lubin  {her  father)^  and 
Colin  {her  lover),  discovered. 

Enter  Pevidor,  leading  the  Bear,  and  singing. 

And  he  dances,  dances,  dances. 

And  goes  upright  like  a Christian  swain. 

And  he  shows  you  pretty  fancies. 

Nor  ever  tries  to  shake  off  his  chain. 

Lubin,  Servant,  master.  Now,  Mopsa,  you  are  happy — it  is,  indeed,  a 
handsome  creature.  What  country  does  your  hear  come  from  ? 

“ Pev.  Dis  hear,  please  your  worship},  is  of  de  race  of  dat  hear  of  St. 
Anthony,  who  was  the  first  convert  he  made  in  de  woods.  St.  Anthony 
hade  him  never  more  meddle  with  man,  and  de  hear  observed  de  command 
to  his  dying  day. 

Lub.  Wonderful! 

Pev,  Dis  generation  he  all  de  same — all  horn  widout  toots. 

“ Colin,  What,  can’t  he  hite  ? {pats  his  finger  to  the  Bear's  mouth,  who 
bites  him.)  Oh  Lord,  no  toots  ! why  you — 

‘‘  Pev.  Oh  dat  he  only  his  gum.  {Mopsa  laughs, 

“ Col.  For  shame,  Mopsa — now,  1 say  Maister  Luhin,  mustn’t  she  give 
me  a kiss  to  make  it  well  ? 

“ Lab.  Ay,  kiss  her,  kiss  her,  Colin. 

Col.  Come,  Miss.  {Mcpsa  runs  to  the  Bear,  who  kisses  her?^ 

The  following  scene  of  the  Devils  drinking  in  their  subterra- 
neous dwelling,  though  cleverly  imagined,  is  such  as,  perhaps,  no 
cookery  of  style  could  render  palatable  to  an  English  audience. 

“ Scene.— -YAe  Devils'^  Cave. 

“ Dev.  Come,  Urial,  here’s  to  our  resurrection. 

“ 2d  Dev.  It  is  a toast  I’d  scarcely  pledge — hy  my  life,  I think  we’re 
happier  here. 

3c?  Dev  Why,  so  tiiink  I— hy  Jove,  I would  despise  the  man,  who  could 


206 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


but  wish  to  iise  again  to  earth,  unless  we  were  to  lord  there.  What! 
sneaking  pitiful  in  bondage,  among  vile  money-scrapers,  treacherous 
friends,  fawning  flatterers — or,  still  worse,  deceitful  mistresses.  Shall  we 
who  reign  lords  here,  again  lend  ourselves  to  swell  the  train  of  tyranny 
and  usurpation  ? By  my  old  father’s  memory,  I‘d  rather  be  the  blindest 
mole  that  ever  skulked  in  darkness,  the  lord  of  one  poor  hole,  where  he 
might  say,  ‘ I’m  master  here.’ 

2d  Dev,  You  are  too  hot — where  shall  concord  be  found,  if  even  the 
devils  disagree  ? — Come  fill  the  glass,  and  add  thy  harmony — while  we 
have  wine  to  enlighten  us,  the  sun  be  hanged  ! I never  thought  he  gave 
so  fine  a light  for  my  part — and  then,  there  are  such  vile  inconveniences — 
high  winds  and  storms,  rains,  &c. — oh  hang  it ! living  on  the  outside  of  the 
earth  is  like  sleeping  on  deck,  when  one  might,  like  us,  have  a snug  berth 
in  the  cabin. 

“ Dev.  True,  true, — Helial,  where  is  thy  catch  ? 

“In  the  earth’s  centre  let  me  live, 

There,  like  a rabbit  will  I thrive. 

Nor  care  if  fools  should  call  my  life  infernal ; 

While  men  on  earth  crawl  lazily  about. 

Like  snails  upon  the  surface  of  the  nut. 

We  are,  like  maggots,  feasting  in  the  kernel. 

“ Is^  Dev.  Bravo,  by  this  glass.  Meli,  what  say  you  ? 

“ 3c?  Dev.  Come,  here’s  to  my  Mina — I used  to  toast  her  in  the  upper  re 
gions. 

“ Is?  Ay,  we  miss  them  here. 

“ Glee. 

“ What’s  a woman  good  for? 

Rat  me,  sir,  if  I know. 

4:  4:  * 4c 

She’s  a savoi  to  tne  glass, 

An  excuse  to  make  it  pass. 

w * * * * 

“ Is?  Dev.  I fear  we  are  like  the  wits  above,  who  abuse  women  only  be- 
cause they  can’t  get  them,— and,  after  all,  it  must  be  owned  they  are  a 
pretty  kind  of  creatures. 

“ All.  Yes,  yes. 

“ Catch. 

“ ’Tis  woman  after  all 

Is  the  blessing  of  this  ball. 

’Tis  she  keeps  the  balance  of  it  even. 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  207 


We  are  devils,  it  is  true, 

But  had  we  women  too, 

Our  Tartarus  would  turn  to  a Heaven !’ V 

A scene  in  the  Third  Act,  where  these  devils  bring  the  prison 
ers  whom  they  have  captured  to  trial,  is  an  overcharged  imita- 
tion of  the  satire  of  Fielding,  and  must  have  been  written,  1 
think,  after  a perusal  of  that  author’s  Satirical  Romance,  “ A 
Journey  from  this  World  to  the  Next,” — the  first  half  of  which 
contains  as  much  genuine  humor  and  fancy  as  are  to  be  found  in 
any  other  production  of  the  kind.  The  interrogatories  of  Minos 
in  that  work  suggested,  I suspect,  the  following  scene : — 

Enter  a number  of  Devils. — Others  bring  in  Ludovico. 

Isi  Dev.  Just  taken,  in  the  wood,  sir,  with  two  more. 

“ Chorus  of  Devils. 

Welcome,  welcome  ♦ ♦ ♦ 

* * * * It 

Dev.  What  art  thou  ? 

“ Ludov.  I went  for  a man  in  the  other  world. 

Dev.  What  sort  of  a man  ? 

Ludov.  A soldier  at  your  service. 

Dev.  Wast  thou  in  the  battle  of ? 

“ Ludov.  Truly  I was. 

Dev.  What  was  the  quarrel  ? 

“ Ludov.  I never  had  time  to  ask.  The  children  of  peace,  who  make 
our  quarrels,  must  be  Your  Worship’s  informants  there. 

Dev.  And  art  thou  not  ashamed  to  draw  the  sword  for  thou  know’st 
not  what — and  to  be  the  victim  and  food  of  others’  folly  ? 

Ludov.  Vastly. 

Pev.  {to  the  Devils.)  Well,  take  him  for  to-day,  and  only  score  his 
skin  and  pepper  it  with  powder — then  chain  him  to  a cannon,  and  let  the 
Devils  practise  at  his  head — his  be  the  reward  who  hits  it  with  a single  ball. 

“ Jjudov.  Oh  mercy,  mercy  ! 

‘‘  Dev.  Bring  Savodi. 

{A  Devil  brings  in  Savodi.) 

“ Chorus  as  before. 

“ Welcome,  welcome,  &c. 

**  Pev.  Who  art  thou  ? 

“ Sav.  A courtier  at  Tour  Grace’s  service. 


208 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LlFE  OF  THE 


Pev.  Your  name? 

Sav,  Savodi,  an’  please  Your  Higlmesses. 

Your  use? 

Sav.  A foolish  utensil  of  state^ — a clock  kept  in  the  waiting-chamber, 
to  count  the  hours. 

Pev.  Are  you  not  one  of  those  who  fawn  and  lie,  and  cringe  like 
spaniels  to  those  a little  higher,  and  take  revenge  by  tyranny  on  all  be- 
neath ? 

Sav,  Most  true.  Your  Highnesses. 

Pev.  Is’t  not  thy  trade  to  promise  what  thou  canst  not  do, — to  gull  the 
credulous  of  money,  to  shut  the  royal  door  on  unassuming  merit — to  catch 
the  scandal  for  thy  master’s  ear,  and  stop  the  people’s  voice 

“ Sav,  Exactly,  an’  please  Your  Highnesses’  Worships. 

Pev,  Thou  dost  not  now  deny  it  ? 

Sav,  Oh  no,  no,  no. 

Pev,  Here — ^baths  of  flaming  sulphur! — quick — stii*  up  the  cauldron  of 
boiling  lead — this  crime  deserves  it. 

Dev.  Great  Judge  of  this  infernal  place,  allow  him  but  the  mercy 
of  the  court. 

Sav.  Oh  kind  Devil ! — ^yes.  Great  Judge,  allow. 

1st  Dev.  The  punishment  is  undergone  already — truth  from  him  is 
something. 

‘‘  Sav.  Oh,  most  unusual — sweet  devil ! 

“ Ist^Dev.  Then,  he  is  tender,  and  might  not  be  able  to  endure — 

‘‘  Sav.  Endure  1 I shall  be  annihilated  by  the  thoughts  of  it — dear  devil. 

“ 1st  Dev,  Then  let  him,  I beseech  you,  in  scalding  brimstone  be  first  soak- 
ed a little,  to  inure  and  prepare  him  for  the  other. 

Sav.  Oh  hear  me,  hear  me. 

Pev,  Well,  be  it  so. 

(^Devils  take  him  out  and  bring  in  Pamphiles.) 

“ Pev,  This  is  he  we  rescued  from  the  ladies — a dainty  one,  I warrant. 

“ Pamphil.  {affectedly.)  This  is  Hell  certainly  by  the  smell. 

“ Pev.  What,  art  thou  a soldier  too  ? 

Pamphil,  No,  on  my  life — a Colonel,  but  no  soldier — innocent  even  of 
a review,  as  I exist. 

Pev.  How  rose  you  then?  come,  come — the  truth. 

Pamphil,  Nay,  be  not  angry,  sir — if  I was  preferred  it  was  not  my 
fault — upon  my  soul,  1 never  did  anything  to  incur  preferment. 

Pev.  Indeed  1 what  was  thy  employment  then,  friend? 

Pamphil.  Hunting — ^ 


SIGHT  HON.  RICHAKD  BRiNSLEY  SHERIDAN.  209 


Pev.  ’Tis  false. 

Pamphil.  Hunting  women’s  reputations. 

“ Pev.  What,  thou  wert  amorous  ? 

Pamphil.  No,  on  my  honor,  sir,  but  vain,  confounded  vain — the  cha- 
racter of  bringing  down  my  game  was  all  I wished,  and,  like  a true  sports- 
man, I would  have  given  my  birds  to  my  pointers. 

‘‘  Pev.  This  crime  is  new — what  shall  we  do  with  him?”  &c.  &c. 

This  singular  Drama  does  not  appear  to  have  been  ever  fin- 
ished. With  respect  to  the  winding  up  of  the  story,  the  hermit, 
we  may  conclude,  would  have  turned  out  to  be  the  banished 
counsellor,  and  the  devils,  his  followers ; while  the  young  hunts- 
man would  most  probably  have  proved  to  be  the  rightful  heir 
of  the  dukedom. 

In  a more  crude  and  unfinished  state  are  the  fragments  that 
remain  of  his  projected  opera  of  “ The  Foresters.”  To  this 
piece  (which  appears  to  have  been  undertaken  at  a later  period 
than  the  preceding  one)  Mr.  Sheridan  often  alluded  in  conversa- 
tion— particularly  when  any  regret  was  expressed  at  his  having 
ceased  to  assist  Old  Drury  with  his  pen, — “ wait  (he  would  say 
smiling)  till  I bring  out  my  Foresters.”  The  plot,  as  far  as  can 
be  judged  from  the  few  meagre  scenes  that  exist,  was  intended  to 
be  an  improvement  upon  that  of  the  Drama  just  described — the 
Devils  being  transformed  into  Foresters,  and  the  action  com- 
mencing, not  with  the  loss  of  a son,  but  the  recovery  of  a daugh- 
ter, who  had  fallen  by  accident  into  the  hands  of  these  free-boot- 
ers.  At  the  opening  of  the  piece  the  young  lady  has  just  been 
restored  to  her  father  by  the  heroic  Captain  of  the  Foresters, 
with  no  other  loss  than  that  of  her  heart,  which  she  is  suspected 
of  having  left  with  her  preserver.  The  list  of  the  Dramatis 
Personre  (to  which  however  he  did  not  afterwards  adhere)  is  as 
follows : — 

Old  Oscar. 

Young  Oscar. 

Colona. 

Morven. 

Harold.  ^ 

Nico. 


210 


MEMOIRS  OB'  IflE  LIB'E  OB’'  THE 


Miza. 

Malvina. 

Allanda. 

Dorcas. 

Emma, 

To  this  strange  medley  of  nomenclature  is  appended  a memo- 
randum— “ Vide  Petrarch  for  names.” 

The  first  scene  represents  the  numerous  lovers  of  Malvina  re- 
joicing at  her  return,  and  celebrating  it  by  a chorus ; after  which 
Oscar,  her  father,  holds  the  following  dialogue  with  one  of 
them : — 

O^c,  I thought,  son,  you  would  have  been  among  the  first  and  most 
eager  to  see  Malvina  upon  her  return. 

Colin,  Oh,  father,  I would  give  half  my  flock  to  think  that  my  pre- 
sence would  be  welcome  to  her. 

Osc.  I am  sure  you  have  never  seen  her  prethr  any  one  else. 

Col.  There’s  the  torment  of  it — were  I but  once  sure  that  she  loved 
another  better,  I think  I should  be  content — at  least  she  should  not  know 
but  that  I was  so.  My  love  is  not  of  that  jealous  sort  that  I should  pine 
to  see  her  happy  with  another — nay,  I could  even  regard  the  man  that 
would  make  her  so. 

Osc.  Haven’t  you  spoke  with  her  since  her  return  ? 

“ Col.  Yes,  and  I think  she  is  colder  to  me  than  ever.  My  professions 
of  love  used  formerly  to  make  her  laugh,  but  now  they  make  her  weep — 
formerly  she  seemed  wholly  insensible  ; now,  alas,  she  seems  to  feel — but 
as  if  addressed  by  the  wTong  person,”  &c.  &c. 

In  a following  scene  are  introduced  two  brothers,  both  equally 
enamored  of  the  fair  Malvina,  yet  preserving  their  affection  un- 
altered towards  each  other.  With  the  recollection  of  Sheridan’s 
own  story  fresh  in  our  minds,  we  might  suppose  that  he  meant 
some  reference  to  it  in  this  incident,  were  it  not  for  the  exceed- 
ing niaiserie  that  he  has  thrown  into  the  dialogue.  For  in- 
stance ; — 

‘‘  Osc.  But  we  are  interrupted — here  are  two  more  of  her  lovers — bro- 
thers, and  rivals,  bu : friends. 


EIGHT  HON.  KiCflAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  211 


“ Enter  Nico  and  Lubin. 

So,  Nico — how  comes  it  you  are  so  late  in  your  inquiries  after  your 
mistress  ? 

“ Eico.  I should  have  been  sooner  ; but  Lubin  would  stay  to  make  liim- 
self  fine — though  he  knows  that  he  has  no  chance  of  appearing  so  to  Mal- 
vina. 

Lubin,  No,  in  truth — Nico  says  right — I have  no  more  chance  than 
himself. 

‘‘  0%c.  However,  I am  glad  to  see  you  reconciled,  and  that  you  live  to- 
gether, as  brothers  should  do. 

“ Nico.  Yes,  ever  since  we  found  your  daughter  cared  for  neither  of  us, 
we  grew  to  care  for  one  another.  There  is  a fellowship  in  adversity  that 
is  consoling  ; and  it  is  something  to  think  that  Lubin  is  as  unfortunate  as 
myself. 

“ Luh.  Yes,  we  are  well  matched — I think  Malvina  dislikes  him,  if  pos- 
ible,  more  than  me,  and  that’s  a great  comfort 

Nico.  We  often  sit  together,  and  play  such  woeful  tunes  on  our  pipes, 
that  the  very  sheep  are  moved  at  it. 

Osc.  But  why  donT  you  rouse  yourselves,  and,  since  you  can  meet 
with  no  requital  of  your  passion,  return  the  proud  maid  scorn  for  scorn? 

“ Nico.  Oh  mercy,  no— we  find  a great  comfort  in  our  sorrow — don’t  we, 
Lubin  ? 

Lubin.  Yes,  if  I meet  no  crosses,  I shall  be  undone  in  another  twelve- 
month — I let  all  go  to  wreck  and  ruin. 

Osc.  But  suppose  Malvina  should  be  brought  to  give  you  encourage- 
ment. 

Nico.  Heaven  forbid ! that  would  spoil  all. 

Lubin.  Truly  I was  almost  assured  within  this  fortnight  that  she  was 
going  to  relax. 

Nico.  Ay,  I shall  never  forget  how  alarmed  we  were  at  the  appearance 
of  a smile  one  day,’’  &c.  &c. 

Of  the  poetical  part  of  this  opera,  the  only  specimens  he  has 
left  are  a skeleton  of  a chorus,  beginning  Bold  Foresters  we 
are,”  and  the  following  song,  which,  for  grace  and  tenderness,  is 
not  unworthy  of  the  hand  that  produced  the  Duenna  : — 

‘‘We  two,  each  other^s  only  pride, 

Each  other’s  bliss,  each  other’s  guide. 

Far  from  the  world’s  uiihallow’d  noise, 

Its  coarse  delights  and  tainted  joys. 


212 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Through  wilds  will  roam  and  deserts  rude-^ 

For,  Love,  thy  home  is  solitude. 

There  shall  no  vain  pretender  be, 

To  court  thy  smile  and  torture  me. 

No  proud  superior  there  be  seen. 

But  nature’s  voice  shall  hail  thee,  queen. 

With  fond  respect  and  tender  awe, 

I will  receive  thy  gentle  law, 

Obey  thy  looks,  and  serve  thee  still. 

Prevent  thy  wish,  foresee  thy  will. 

And,  added  to  a lover’s  care,  ^ 

Be  all  that  friends  and  parents  are,” 

But,  of  all  Mr.  Sheridan’s  unfinished  designs,  the  Comedy 
which  he  meditated  on  the  subject  of  Affectation  is  that  of  which 
the  abandonment  is  most  to  be  regretted.  To  a satirist,  who 
would  not  confine  his  ridicule  to  the  mere  outward  demonstra 
tions  of  this  folly,  but  would  follow  and  detect  it  through  all  its 
windings  and  disguises,  there  could  hardly  perhaps  be  a more 
fertile  theme.  Affectation,  merely  of  manner^  being  itself  a 
sort  of  acting,  does  not  easily  admit  of  any  additional  coloring 
on  the  stage,  without  degenerating  into  farce ; and,  accordingly, 
fops  and  fine  ladies — with  very  few  exceptions — are  about  as  silly 
and  tiresome  in  representation  as  in  reality.  But  the  aim  of 
the  dramatist,  in  this  comedy,  would  have  been  far  more  impor- 
tant and  extensive ; — and  how  anxious  he  was  to  keep  before  his 
mind’s  eye  the  whole  wide  horizon  of  folly  which  his  subject 
opened  upon  him,  will  appear  from  the  following  list  of  the 
various  species  of  Affectation,  which  I have  found  written  by 
him,  exactly  as  I give  it,  on  the  inside  cover  of  the  memoran- 
dum-book, that  contains  the  only  remaining  vestiges  of  this 
play 


" An  Affectation  of  Business. 

of  Accomplishments, 
of  Love  of  Letters  and  Wit 
Music. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN  213 


of  Intrigue, 
of  Sensibility, 
of  Vivaeity. 

of  Silence  and  Importance, 
of  Modesty, 
of  Profligacy, 
of  Moroseness.” 

In  this  projected  comedy  he  does  not  seem  to  have  advanced 
as  far  as  even  the  invention  of  the  plot  or  the  composition  of  a 
single  scene.  The  memorandum-book  alluded  to — on  the  hrst 
leaf  of  which  he  had  written  in  his  neatest  hand  (as  if  to  encour- 
age himself  to  begin)  “Affectation” — contains,  besides  the  names 
of  three  of  the  intended  personages,  Sir  Babble  Bore,  Sir  Pere- 
grine Paradox,  and  Feignwit,  nothing  but  unembodied  sketches 
of  character,  and  scattered  particles  of  wit,  which  seem  waiting, 
like  the  imperfect  forms  and  seeds  in  chaos,  for  the  brooding  of 
genius  to  nurse  them  into  system  and  beauty. 

The  reader  will  not,  I think,  be  displeased  at  seeing  some  of 
these  curious  materials  here.  They  will  show  that  in  this  work, 
as  well  as  in  the  School  for  Scandal,  he  was  desirous  of  making 
the  vintage  of  his  wit  as  rich  as  possible,  by  distilling  into  it 
every  drop  that  the  collected  fruits  of  his  thought  and  fancy 
could  supply.  Some  of  the  jests  are  far-fetched,  and  others, 
perhaps,  abortive — but  it  is  pleasant  to  trachfhim  in  his  pursuit 
of  a point,  even  ^yhen  he  misses.  The  very  failures  of  a man  of 
real  wit  are  often  more  delightful  than  the  best^  successes  of 
others— the  quick-silver,  even  in  escaping  from  his  grasp,  shines ; 
“ it  still  eludes  him,  but  it  glitters  still.” 

I shall  give  the  memorandums  as  I find  them,  with  no  other 
difference,  than  that  of  classing  together  those  that  have  relation 
to  the  same  thought  or  subject. 

“ Character — Mr.  Bustle. 

“ A man  who  delights  in  hurry  and  interruption — will  take  any  one^s 
business  for  them — leaves  word  where  all  his  plagues  may  follow  liim — • 
governor  of  all  hospitals,  &c. — 'ihare  in  llanelagh — speaker  every  where, 
from  the  Vestrj  to  the  House  of  Commons — ' I am  not  at  home— gad,  now 


214 


MEMOIBS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


he  heard  me  and  I must  be  at  home.'— Here  am  I so  plagued,  and  there  is 
nothing  I love  so  much  as  retirement  and  quiet.’ — ‘You  never  sent  after 
me.’ — Let  servants  call  in  to  him  such  a message  as  ‘ ’Tis  nothing  but  the 
window  tav,’  he  hiding  in  a room  that  communicates. — A young  man  tells 
him  some  important  business  in  the  middle  of  fifty  trivial  interruptions, 
and  the  calling  in  of  idlers  ; such  as  fidlers,  wdld-beast  men,  foreigners  with 
recommendatory  letters,  &c. — answers  notes  on  his  knee,  ‘ and  so  your 
uncle  died? — for  your  obliging  inquiries — and  left  you  an  orphan — to 
cards  in  the  evening.’ 

“ Can’t  bear  to  be  doing  nothing. — ‘ Can  I do  anything  for  any  body  any 
where  T — ‘ Have  been  to  the  Secretary — written  to  the  Treasury.’ — Must 
proceed  to  meet  the  Commissioners,  and  write  Mr.  Price’s  little  boy’s  exer- 
cise.’— The  most  active  idler  and  laborious  trifler. 

“ He  does  not  in  reality  love  business — only  the  appearance  of  it.  ‘ Ha ! 
ha ! did  my  Lord  say  that  I was  always  very  busy  ? What,  plagued  to 
death  ?’ 

“ Keeps  all  his  letters  and  copies — ‘ Mem.  to  meet  the  Hackney-coach 
Commissioners — to  arbitrate  between,’  &c.  &c. 

“ Contrast  with  the  man  of  indolence,  his  brother. — ‘ So,  brother,  just 
up ! and  1 have  been,’  &c.  &c. — one  will  give  his  money  from  indolent 
generosity,  the  other  his  time  from  restlessness — ‘ ’Tvylll  be  shorter  to  pay 
the  bill  than  look  for  the  receipt.’ — Files  letters,  answered  and  unanswered 
■ — ‘ Why,  here  are  more  unopened  than  answered !’ 


“ Ho  regulates  every  action  by  a love  for  fashion — will  grant  annuities 
though  he  doesn’t  want  money — appear  to  intrigue,  though  constant ; to 
drink,  though  sober — has  some  fashionable  vices — afiects  to  be  distressed  in 
his  circumstances,  arid,  when  his  new  vis-a-vis  comes  out,  procures  a judg- 
ment to  be  entered  against  him— w^ants  to  lose,  but  by  ill-luck  wins  five 
thousand  pounds. 

“ One  who  changes  sides  in  all  arguments  the  moment  any  one  agrees 
with  him. 

“ An  irresolute  arguer,  to  whom  it  is  a great  misfortune  that  there  are 
not  three  sides  to  a question — a libertine  in  argument ; conviction,  like 
enjoyment,  palls  him,  and  his  rakish  understanding  is  soon  satiated  with 
truth— more  capable  of  being  faithful  to  a paradox — ‘ I love  truth  as  I do 
my  wdfe  ; but  sophistry  and  paradoxes  are  my  mistresses — I have  a strong 
domestic  respect  for  her,  but  for  the  Other  the  passion  due  to  a mishess.’ 

“ One,  who  agrees  with  every  one,  for  the  pleasure  of  speaking  their 
sentiments  for  them — so  fond  of  talking  that  he  does  not  contradict  only 
because  he  can’t  wait  to  hear  pec^le  out. 

“ A tripping  casuist,  who  veers  by  others’  breath,  and  gets  on  inforraa- 


EIGHT  HON.  EICHAED  BEINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  215 


tion  by  tacking  between  the  two  sides — like  a hoy,  not  made  to  go  straight 
before  the  wind. 

The  more  he  talks,  the  further  he  is  off  the  argument,  like  a bowl  on 
a wrong  bias. 

“ What  are  the  affectations  you  chiefly  dislike  ? 

“ There  are  many  in  this  company,  so  I’ll  mention  others. — To  see  tw 
people  affecting  intrigue,  having  their  assignations  in  public  places  only  , 
he  affecting  a warm  pursuit,  and  the  lady,  acting  the  hesitation  of  retreat- 
ing virtue — Tray,  ma’am,  don’t  you  think,’  &c. — while  neither  party  have 
words  between  ’em  to  conduct  the  preliminaries  of  gallantry,  nor  passion 
to  pursue  the  object  of  it. 

“•  A plan  of  public  flirtation — not  to  get  beyond  arprofile. 

“ Then  I hate  to  see  one,  to  whom  heaven  has  given  real  beauty,  set- 
tling her  features  at  the  glass  of  fashion,  while  she  speaks — not  thinking 
so  much  of  what  she  says  as  how  she  looks,  and  more  careful  of  the  action 
of  her  lips  than  of  what  shall  come  from  them. 

A pretty  woman  studying  looks  and  endeavoring  to  recollect  an  ogle, 
like  Lady , who  has  learned  to  play  her  eyelids  like  Venetian  blinds.* 

“ An  old  woman  endeavoring  to  put  herself  back  to  a girl. 


A true-trained  wit  lays  his  plan  like  a general — foresees  the  circum- 
stances of  the  conversation — surveys  the  ground  and  contingencies — de- 
taches a question  to  draw  you  into  the  palpable  ambuscade  of  his  ready- 
made joke. 

A man  intriguing,  only  for  the  reputation  of  it — to  his  confidential 
servant : ‘ Who  am  I in  love  with  now  ?’ — ^ The  newspapers  give  you  so 
and  so — you  are  laying  close  siege  to  Lady  L.,  in  the  Morning  Post,  and 
have  succeeded  with  Lady  G.  in  the  Herald — Sir  F.  is  very  jealous  of  you 
in  the  Gazetteer.’ — ‘ Remember  to-morrow  the  first  thing  you  do,  to  put 
me  in  love  with  Mrs.  C.’ 

‘ I forgot  to  forget  the  billet-doux  at  Brooks’s.’ — ^ By  the  bye,  an’t 
I in  love  with  you  ?’ — ^ Lady  L.  has  promised  to  meet  me  in  her  carriage 
to-morrow — where  is  the  most  public  place  ?’ 

“ ^ You  were  rude  to  her !' — ‘ Oh,  no,  upon  my  soul,  I made  love  to  her 
directly.’ 

‘‘  An  old  man,  who  affects  intrigue,  and  writes  his  own  reproaches  in 
the  Morning  Post,  trying  to  scandalize  himself  into  the  reputation  of  being 

* This  simile  is  repeated  in  various  shapes  through  his  manuscripts — “She  moves  her 
eyes  up  and  down  liice  Venetian  blinds”— “ Her  eyelids  play  like  a Venetian  blind,” 
&c  &c. 


216 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


young,  as  if  he  could  obscure  his  age  by  blotting  his  character — though 
never  so  little  candid  as  when  he’s  abusing  himself. 

‘ Shall  you  be  at  Lady ’s  ? — I’m  told  the  Bramin  is  to  be  there, 

and  the  new  French  philosopher.’ — ‘ No — it  will  be  pleasanter  at  Lady 
’s  conversazione — the  cow  with  two  heads  will  be  there.’ 


‘ I shall  order  my  valet  to  shoot  me  the  very  first  thing  he  does  in  fhe 
morning.’ 

“ * You  are  yourself  affected  and  don’t  know  it — ^you  would  pass  for  mo- 
rose.* 

“ He  merely  wanted  to  be  singular,  and  happened  to  find  the  character 
of  moroseness  unoccupied  in  the  society  he  lived  with. 

He  certainly  has  a great  deal  of  fancy  and  a very  good  memory  ; but 
with  a perverse  ingenuity  he  employs  these  qualities  as  no  other  person 
does — for  he  employs  his  fancy  in  his  narratives,  and  keeps  his  recollec- 
tions for  his  wit — when  he  makes  his  jokes  you  applaud  the  accuracy  of 
his  memory,  and  ’tis  only  when  he  states  his  facts  that  you  admire  the 
flights  of  his  imagination.* 


“ A fat  woman  trundling  into  a room  on  castors — in  sitting  can  only 
lean  against  her  chair — rings  on  her  fingers,  and  her  fat  arms  strangled 
with  bracelets,  which  belt  them  like  corded  brawn — rolling  and  heaving 
when  she  laughs  with  the  rattles  in  her  throat,  and  a most  apoplectic  ogle 
— you  wish  to  draw  her  out,  as  you  would  an  opera-glass. 


A long  lean  man  with  all  his  limbs  rambling — no  way  to  reduce  him 
to  compass,  unless  you  could  double  him  like  a pocket  rule — with  his  arms 
spread,  he’d  lie  on  the  bed  of  Ware  like  a cross  on  a Good  Friday  bun — 
standing  still,  he  is  a pilaster  without  a base — he  appears  rolled  out  or  run 
up  against  a wall — so  thin  that  his  front  face  is  but  the  moiety  of  a profile 
— if  he  stands  cross-legged,  he  looks  like  a caduceus,  and  put  him  in  a 
fencing  attitude,  you  will  take  him  for  a piece  of  chevaux-de-frise — to 
make  any  use  of  him,  it  must  be  as  a spontoon  or  a fishing-rod — ^when  his 
wife’s  by,  he  follows  like  a note  of  admiration — see  them  together,  one’s  a 
mast,  and  the  other  all  hulk — she’s  a dome  and  he’s  built  like  a glass-house 
—when  they  part,  you  wonder  to  see  the  steeple  separate  from  the  chancel, 
and  were  they  to  embrace,  he  must  hang  round  her  neck  like  a skein  of 
thread  on  a lace-maker’s  bolster — to  sing  her  praise  you  should  choose  a 
rondeau,  and  celebrate  him  you  must  write  all  Alexandrines. 


♦ The  reaficr  will  find  liow  much  this  thouglit  was  improved  upon  afterwards. 


RIGHT  HON,  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  217 


“ I wouldn’t  give  a pin  to  make  fine  men  in  love  with  me — every  co- 
quette can  do  that,  and  the  pain  you  give  these  creatures  is  very  trifling. 
I love  out-of-the-way  conquests  ; and  as  I think  my  attractions  are  singular, 
I would  draw  singular  objects. 

“ The  loadstone  of  true  beauty  draws  the  heaviest  substances — not  like 
the  fat  dowager,  who  frets  herself  into  warmth  to  get  the  notice  of  a few 
papier  mache  fops,  as  you  rub  Dutch  sealing-wax  to  drav/  paper. 

If  I were  inclined  to  flatter  I would  say  that,  as  you  are  unlike  other 
women,  you  ought  not  to  be  won  as  they  are.  Every  woman  can  be  gained 
by  time,  therefore  you  ought  to  be  by  a sudden  impulse.  Sighs,  devotion, 
attention  weigh  with  others  ; but  they  are  so  much  your  due  that  no  one 

should  claim  merit  from  them 

“ You  should  not  be  swayed  by  common  motives — how  heroic  to  form  a 
marriage  for  which  no  human  being  can  guess  the  inducement — what  a 
glorious  unaccountableness  ! All  the  world  will  wonder  what  the  devil 
you  could  see  in  me  ; and,  if  you  should  doubt  your  singularity,  I pledge 
myself  to  you  that  I never  yet  was  endured  by  woman  ; so  that  I should 
owe  every  thing  to  the  effect  of  your  bounty,  and  not  by  my  own  super- 
fluous deserts  make  it  a debt,  and  so  lessen  both  the  obligation  and  my 
gratitude.  In  short,  every  other  woman  follows  her  inclination,  but  you, 
above  all  things,  should  take  me,  if  you  do  not  like  me.  You  will,  be- 
sides, have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  we  are  decidedly  the  worst 
match  in  the  kingdom — a match,  too,  that  must  be  all  your  own  work, 
in  which  fate  could  have  no  hand,  and  which  no  foresight  could  foresee. 


“ A lady  who  affects  poetry. — ^ I made  regular  approaches  to  her  by 
sonnets  and  rebusses — a rondeau  of  circumvallation — her  pride  sapped  by 
an  elegy,  and  her  reserve  surprised  by  an  impromptu — proceeding  to 
storm  with  Pindarics,  she,  at  last,  saved  the  further  effusion  of  ink  by  a 
capitulation.’ 

Her  prudish  frowns  and  resentful  looks  are  as  ridiculous  as  ’twould 
be  to  see  a board  with  notice  of  spring-guns  set  in  a highway,  or  of 
steel-traps  in  a common — because  they  imply  an  insinuation  that  there  is 
something  worth  plundering  where  one  would  not,  in  the  least,  suspect  it, 
“ The  expression  o.‘  her  face  is  at  once  a denial  of  all  love-suit,  and  a 
confession  that  she  never  was  asked — the  sourness  of  it  arises  not  so  much 
from  her  aversion  to  the  passion,  as  from  her  never  having  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  show  it. — Her  features  are  so  unfortunately  formed  that  she 
could  never  dissemble  or  put  on  sweetness  enough  to  induce  any  one  to 
give  her  occasion  to  show  her  bitterne^. — I never  saw  a woman  to  whom 
you  would  more  readily  give  credit  for  perfect  chastity. 

VOL.  I.  10 


218 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Lady  Clio.  ‘ lYLat  am  I reading?’ — ^ liave  I drawn  nothing  lately? — 
is  the  work-bag  finished? — how  accomplished  I am! — has  the  man  been  to 
untune  the  harpsichord? — does  it  look  as  if  I had  been  playing  on  it? 

^ Shall  I be  ill  to-day? — shall  I be  nervous?’ — ‘ Your  La’ship  was  ner- 
vous yesterday.’— ‘ Was  I ? — then  I’ll  have  a cold — I haven’t  had  a cold  this 
fortnight — a cold  is  becoming — no — I'll  not  have  a cough  ; that’s  fatiguing 
— I’ll  be  quite  well.’ — ^ You  become  sickness — your  La’ship  always  looks 
vastly  well  when  you’re  ill.’ 

‘ Leave  the  book  half  read  and  the  rose  half  finished — you  know  I love 
to  be  caught  in  the  fact.’ 

“ One  who  knows  that  no  credit  is  ever  given  to  his  assertions  has  the 
more  right  to  contradict  his  words. 

He  goes  the  western  circuit,  to  pick  up  small  fees  and  impudence. 


A new  wooden  leg  for  Sir  Charles  Easy. 


An  ornament  which  proud  peers  wear  all  the  year  round — chimney- 
sweepers only  on  the  first  of  May. 


In  marriage  if  you  possess  any  thing  very  good,  it  makes  you  eager  to 
get  every  thing  else  good  of  the  same  sort. 

The  critic  when  he  gets  out  of  his  carriage  should  always  recollect, 
that  his  footman  behind  is  gone  up  to  judge  as  well  as  himself. 


She  might  have  escaped  in  her  own  clothes,  but  I suppose  she  thought 
it  more  romantic  to  put  on  her  brother’s  regimentals.” 

The  rough  sketches  and  fragments  of  poems,  which  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan left  behind  him,  are^numerous ; but  those  among  them  that 
are  sufficiently  finished  to  be  cited,  bear  the  marks  of  having 
been  wiitten  wnen  he  was  very  young,  and  would  not  much  in- 
terest the  reader — while  of  the  rest  it  is  difficult  to  find  four  con- 
secutive lines,  that  have  undergone  enough  of  the  toilette  of  com- 
position to  be  presentable  in  print.  It  was  his  usual  practice, 
when  he  undertook  any  subject  in  verse,  to  write  dowm  his  thoughts 
first  in  a sort, of  poetical  prose, — with,  here  and  there,  a rhyme  or 
a metrical  line,  as  they  might  occur — and  then,  afterwards  to  reduce 
with  much  labor,  this  anomalous  compound  to  regular  poetry. 
The  birth  of  his  prose  being,  as  we  have  already  seen,  so  diffi- 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  219 


cult,  it  may  be  imagined  how  painful  was  the  travail  of  his  verse. 
Indeed,  the  number  of  tasks  which  he  left  imlinished  are  all  so 
many  proofs  of  that  despair  of  perfection,  which  those  best  quali- 
fied to  attain  it  are  always  most  likely  to  feel. 

There  are  some  fragments  of  an  Epilogue  apparently  intended 
to  be  spoken  in  the  character  of  a woman  of  fashion,  which  give  a 
lively  notion  of  what  the  poem  would  have  been,  when  complete. 
The  high  carriages,  that  had  just  then  come  into  fashion,  are  thus 
adverted  to : — 

My  carriage  stared  at ! — none  so  high  or  fine — 

Palmer’s  mail-coach  shall  be  a sledge  to  mine.  * 

* * * * * Jf: 

No  longer  now  the  youths  beside  us  stand, 

And  talking  lean,  and  leaning  press  the  hand  ; 

But  ogling  upward,  as  aloft  we  sit. 

Straining,  poor  things,  their  ankles  and  their  wdt, 

And,  muc^i  too  short  the  inside  to  explore. 

Hang  like  supporters,  half  way  up  the  door.” 

The  approach  of  a “ veteran  husband,”  to  disturb  these  flirta 
tions  and  chase  away  the  lovers,  is  then  hinted  at : — 

“ To  persecuted  virtue  yield  assistance. 

And  for  one  hour  teach  younger  men  their  distance, 

Make  them,  in  very  spite,  appear  discreet. 

And  mar  the  public  mysteries  of  the  street.” 

The  affectation  of  appearing  to  make  love,  while  talking  on 
uidifferent  matters,  is  illustrated  by  the  following  simile  : 

So  when  dramatic  statesmen  talk  apart. 

With  practis’d  gesture  and  heroic  start, 

The  plot’s  their  theme,  the  gaping  galleries  guess. 

While  Hull  and  Fearon  think  of  nothing  less.” 

The  following  lines  seem  to  belong  to  the  same  Epilogue : — 

The.Campus  Martins  of  St.  James’s  Street, 

Where  the  beau’s  cavalry  pace  to  and  fro. 

Before  they  take  the  field  in  Rotten  Row  j 


220 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Where  Brooks’  Blues  and  Weltze’s  Light  Dragoons 
Dismount  in  files  and  ogle  in  platoons.” 

He  had  also  begun  another  Epilogue,  directed  against  femala 
gamesters,  of  which  he  himself  repeated  a couplet  or  two  to 
Mr.  Rogers  a short  time  before  his  death,  and  of  which  there 
remain  some  few  scattered  traces  among  his  papers : — ' 

“ A night  of  fretful  passion  may  consume 
All  that  thou  hast  of  beauty’s  gentle  bloom, 

And  one  distemper’d  hour  of  sordid  fear 
Print  on  thy  brow  the  wrinkles  of  a year.* 

♦ * * * « 

Great  figure  loses,  little  figure  wins. 

* * * * 

Ungrateful  blushes  and  disorder’d  sighs. 

Which  love  disclaims  nor  even  shame  supplies. 

♦ * 4;  4; 

Gay  smiles,  which  once  belong’d  to  mirth  alone. 

And  startling  tears,  which  pity  dares  not  own.” 

The  following  stray  couplet  would  seem  to  have  been  intended 
for  his  description  of  Gorilla  : — 

A crayon  Cupid,  redd’ning  into  shape, 

Betrays  her  talents  to  design  and  scrape.” 

The  Epilogue,  which  I am  about  to  give,  though  apparently 
finished,  has  not,  as  far  as  I can  learu,  yet  appeared  in  print,  nor 
am  I at  all  aware  for  what  occasion  it  was  intended. 

“ In  this  gay  month  when,  through  the  sultry  hour. 

The  vernal  sun  denies  the  wonted  shower, 

When  youthful  Spring  usurps  maturer  sway, 

And  pallid  April  steals  the  blush  of  May, 

How  joys  the  rustic  tribe,  to  view  display’d 
The  liberal  blossom  and  the  early  shade ! 

But  ah ! far  other  air  our  soil  delights  ; 

Here  ^ charming  weather  ’ is  the  worst  of  blights. 

* These  four  lines,  as  I have  already  remarked,  are  taken — with  little  change  of  the 
words,  but  a total  alteration  of  the  sentiment — from  the  verses  which  he  addressed  to 
Mrs.  Sheridan  in  the  year  1773.  See  page  83. 


RIGHT  HON.  RlCHARl)  RRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  22l 


No  genial  beams  rejoice  our  rustic  train, 

Their  harvest’s  still  the  better  for  the  rain. 

To  summer  suns  our  groves  no  tribute  owe, 

They  thrive  in  frost,  and  flourish  best  in  snow. 

When  other  woods  resound  the  feather’d  throng, 

Our  groves,  our  woods,  are  destitute  of  song. 

The  thrush,  the  lark,  all  leave  our  mimic  vale, 

No  more  we  boast  our  Christmas  nightingale  ; 

Poor  Rossignol — the  wonder  of  his  day. 

Sung  through  the  winter — but  is  mute  in  May. 

Then  bashful  spring,  that  gilds  fair  nature’s  scene, 

O’ercasts  our  lawns,  and  deadens  every  green  ; 

Obscures  our  sky,  embrowns  the  wooden  shade, 

And  dries  the  channel  of  each  tin  cascade ! 

Oh  hapless  we,  whom  such  ill  fate  betides, 

Hurt  by  the  beam  which  cheers  the  world  besides ! 

Who  love  the  lingering  frost,  nice,  chilling  showers, 

While  Nature’s  — is  death  to  ours ; 

Who,  witch-like,  best  in  noxious  mists  perform, 

Thrive  in  the  tempest,  and  enjoy  the  storm. 

0 hapless  we — unless  your  generous  care 
Bids  us  no  more  lament  that  Spring  is  fair, 

But  plenteous  glean  from  the  dramatic  soil, 

The  vernal  harvest  of  our  winter’s  toil. 

For,  April  suns  to  us  no  pleasure  bring — 

Your  presence  here  is  all  we  feel  of  Spring  ; 

May’s  riper  beauties  here  no  bloom  display, 

Your  fostering  smile  alone  proclaims  it  May.” 

A poem  upon  Windsor  Castle,  half  ludicrous  and  half  solemn, 
appears,  from  the  many  experiments  which  he  made  upon  it,  to 
have  cost  him  considerable  trouble.  The  Castle,  he  says, 

‘‘  Its  base  a mountain,  and  itself  a rock. 

In  proud  defiance  of  the  tempests’  rage. 

Like  an  old  gray-hair’d  veteran  stands  each  shock — 

The  sturdy  witness  of  a nobler  age.” 

He  then  alludes  to  the  “ cockney”  improvements  that  had 
lately  taken  place,  among  which  the  venerable  castle  appears,  like 

A helmet  on  a Macaroni’s  head — 

Or  like  old  Talbot,  turn’d  into  a fop, 

With  coat  embroider'd  and  scratch  wig  at  top.” 


222 


MEMOIRS  OE  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Some  verses,  of  the  same  mixed  character,  on  the  short  dura- 
tion of  life  and  the  changes  that  death  produces,  thus  begin : — 

Of  that  same  tree  which  gave  the  box, 

Now  rattling  in  the  hand  of  FOX, 

Perhaps  his  coffin  shall  be  made. — ’’ 

He  then  rambles  into  prose,  as  was  his  custom,  on  a sort  of 
knight-errantry  after  thoughts  and  images : — “ The  lawn  thou 
hast  chosen  for  thy  bridal  shift — thy  shroud  may  be  of  the  same 
piece.  That  flower  thou  hast  bought  to  feed  thy  vanity — from 
the  same  tree  thy  corpse  may  be  decked.  Reynolds  shall,  like 
his  colors,  fly  ; and  Brown,  when  mingled  with  the  dust,  manure 
the  grounds  he  once  laid  out.  Death  is  life’s  second  childhood  ; 
we  return  to  the  breast  from  whence  we  came,  are  weaned, 

There  are  a few  detached  lines  and  couplets  of  a poem,  in- 
tended to  ridicule  some  fliir  invalid,  who  was  much  given  to  fall- 
ing in  love  with  her  physicians  : — 

Who  felt  her  pulse,  obtained  her  heart.’’ 

The  following  couplet,  in  which  he  characterizes  an  amiable 
friend  of  his,  Dr.  Bain,  with  whom  he  did  not  become  acquainted 
till  the  year  1792,  proves  these  fragments  to  have  been  written 
after  that  period : — 

Not  savage  * * * nor  gentle  Bain — 

She  was  in  love  with  Warwick  Lane.” 

An  “ Address  to  the  Prince,”  on  the  exposed  style  of  women’s 
dress,  consists  of  little  more  than  single  lines,  not  yet  wedded 
into  couplets ; such  as — “ The  more  you  show,  the  less  we  wish 
to  see.” — “ And  bare  their  bodies,  as  they  mask  their  minds,” 
&c.  This  poem,  however,  must  have  been  undertaken  many 
years  after  his  entrance  into  Parliament,  as  the  following  curious 
political  memorandum  will  prove  : — “ I like  it  no  better  for  being 
from  France — whence  all  ills  come — altar  of  liberty,  begrimed 
at  once  with  blood  and  mire.” 


RIGHT  HON.  RiCHARD  RRiNSLEY  SHERIDAN.  223 

There  are  also  some  Anacreontics — lively,  but  boyish  and^ex- 
travagant.  For  instance,  in  expressing  his  love  of  bumpers  : — 

Were  miue  a goblet  that  had  room 
For  a whole  vintage  in  its  womb, 

I still  would  have  the  liquor  swim 
An  inch  or  two  above  the  brim.’’ 

The  following  specimen  is  from  one  of  those  poems,  whose 
length  and  completeness  prove  them  to  have  been  written  at  a 
time  of  life  when  he  was  more  easily  pleased,  and  had  not  yet 
arrived  at  that  state  of  glory  and  torment  for  the  poet,  when 

“ Toujour 8 m^content  de  ce  quHl  vient  de  faire^ 

11  plait  d tout  1$  monde  et  ne  s^aurait  se  plaire — 

The  Muses  call’d,  the  other  morning, 

On  Phoebus,  with  a friendly  warning 
That  invocations  came  so  fast. 

They  must  give  up  their  trade  at  last, 

And  if  he  meant  t’  assist  them  all. 

The  aid  of  Nine  would  be  too  small. 

Me  then,  as  clerk,  the  Council  chose. 

To  tell  this  truth  in  humble  prose. — 

But  Phoebus,  possibly  intending 
To  show  what  ail  their  hopes  must  end  in, 

To  give  the  scribbling  youths  a sample. 

And  frighten  them  by  my  example. 

Bade  me  ascend  the  poet’s  throne. 

And  give  them  verse — much  like  their  own. 

Who  has  not  heard  each  poet  sing 
The  powers  of  Heliconian  spring  ? 

Its  noblv  virtues  we  are  told 
By  all  the  rhyming  crew  of  old. — 

Drmk  but  a little  of  its  well, 

And  strait  you  could  both  write  and  vspell, 

While  such  rhyme -giving  pow’rs  run  through  i\ 

A quart  would  make  an  epic  poet,”  &c.  &o. 

A poem  on  the  miseries  of  a literary  drudge  ''legins  thus  pro- 
misingly : — 

‘‘  Think  ye  how  dear  the  sickly  meal  is  Dougut, 

By  him  who  works  at  verse  and  trades  in  thought 


224  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

The  rest  is  hardly  legible ; but  there  can  be  little  doubt  that 
he  would  have  done  this  subject  justice; — for  he  had  himself 
tasted  of  the  bitterness  with  which  the  heart  of  a man  of  genius 
overflows,  when  forced  by  indigence  to  barter  away  (as  it  is  here 
expressed)  “ the  reversion  of  his  thoughts,’’  and 

“ Forestall  the  blighted  harvest  of  his  brain.” 

It  will  be  easily  believed  that,  in  looking  over  the  remains, 
both  dramatic  and  poetical,  from  which  the  foregoing  specimens 
are  taken,  I have  been  frequently  tempted  to  indulge  in  much 
ampler  extracts.  It  appeared  to  me,  however,  more  prudent  to 
rest  satisfied  with  the  selections  here  given  ; for,  while  less  would 
have  disappointed  the  curiosity  of  the  reader,  more  might  have 
done  injustice  to  the  memory  of  the  author. 


RIGHT  .IlON.  RICfiARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIdAN.  2^5 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

HIS  FIRST  SPEECHES  IN  PARLIAMENT; — ROCKINGHAM  AD- 
MINISTRATION.— COALITION. — INDIA  BILL; — RE-  ELEC- 
TION FOB  STAFFORD. 

The  period  at  which  Mr.  Sheridan  entered  upon  his  political 
career  was,  in  every  respect,  remarkable.  A persevering  and 
vindictive  war  against  America,  with  the  folly  and  guilt  of  which 
the  obstinacy  of  the  Court  and  the  acquiescence  of  the  people 
are  equally  chargeable,  was  fast  approaching  that  crisis,  which 
every  unbiassed  spectator  of  the  contest  had  long  foreseen, — and 
at  which,  however  humiliating  to  the  haughty  pretensions  of  Eng- 
land, every  friend  to  the  liberties  of  the  human  race  rejoiced. 
It  was,  perhaps,  as  difficult  for  this  country  to  have  been  long 
and  virulently  opposed  to  such  principles  as  the  Americans  as- 
serted in  this  contest,  without  being  herself  corrupted  by  the 
cause  which  she  maintained,  as  it  was  for  the  French  to  have 
fought,  in  the  same  conflict,  by  the  side  of  the  oppressed,  without 
catching  a portion  of  that  enthusiasm  for  liberty,  which  such  an 
alliance  was  calculated  to  inspire.  Accordingly,  while  the  voice 
of  philosophy  was  heard  along  the  neighboring  shores,  speaking 
aloud  those  oracular  warnings,  which  preceded  the  death  of  the 
Great  Pan  of  Despotism,  the  courtiers  and  lawyers  of  England 
were,  with  an  emulous  spirit  of  servility,  advising  and  sanctioning 
such  strides  of  power,  as  would  not  have  been  unworthy  of  the 
most  dark  and  slavish  times. 

When  we  review,  indeed,  the  history  of  the  late  reign,  and 
consider  how  invariably  the  arms  and  coundTh  of  Great  Britain, 
in  her  Eastern  wars,  her  conflict  'with  America,  and  her  efforts 
against  revolutionary  France,  were  directed  to  the  establishment 
VOL.  I.  10* 


226 


MEMOIKS  OF  O^HE  LIFE  OF  THE 


and  perpetuation  of  despotic  principles,  it  seems  little  less  than 
a miracle  that  her  own  liberty  should  have  escaped  with  life  from 
the  contagion.  Never,  indeed,  can  she  be  sufficiently  grateful  to 
the  few  patriot”  spirits  of  this  period,  to  whose  courage  and  elo- 
quence she  owes  the  high  station  of  freedom  yet  left  to  her  ; — 
never  can  her  sons  pay  a homage  too  warm  to  the  memory  of 
such  men  as  a Chatham,  a F ox,  and  a Sheridan  ; who,  however 
much  they  may  have  sometimes  sacrificed  to  false  views  of  ex- 
pediency, and,  by  compromise  with  friends  and  coalition  with 
foes,  too  often  weakened  their  hold  upon  public  confidence  ; how- 
ever the  attraction  of  the  Court  may  have  sometimes  made  them 
librate  in  their  orbit,  were  yet  the  saving  lights  of  Liberty  in 
those  times,  and  alone  preserved  the  ark  of  the  Constitution 
from  foundering  in  the  foul  and  troubled  waters  that  encom- 
passed it. 

Not  only  were  the  public  events,  in  which  Mr.  Sheridan  was 
now  called  to  take  a part,  of  a nature  more  extraordinary  and 
awful  than  had  often  been  exhibited  on  the  theatre  of  politics, 
but  the  leading  actors  in  the  scene  were  of  that  loftier  order  of 
intellect,  which  Nature  seems  to  keep  in  reserve  for  the  emioble- 
ment  of  such  great  occasions.  Two  of  these,  Mr.  Burke  and 
Mr.  Fox,  were  already  in  the  full  maturity  of  their  fame  and 
talent, — while  the  third,  Mr.  Pitt,  was  just  upon  the  point  of 
entering,  with  the  most  auspicious  promise,  into  the  same  splen- 
did career : ' 

“ Nunc  cuspide  Pair  is 
Inclytus,  Herculeas  olim  moture  sagittasP 

Though  the  administration  of  that  day,  like  many  ocher  min- 
istries of  the  same  reign,  was  chosen  more  for  the  pliancy  than 
the  strength  of  its  materials,  yet  Lord  North  himself  was  no  or- 
dinary man,  and,  in  times  of  less  difficulty  and  under  less  obsti- 
nate dictation,  might  have  ranked  as  a useful  and  most  popular 
minister.  It  is  true,  as  the  defenders  of  his  measures  state,  that 
some  of  the  worst’  aggressions  upon  the  rights  of  the  Colonies 
had  been  committed  before  he  succeeded  to  power.  But  his 
readiness  to  follow  in  these  rash  footsteps,  and  to  deepen  every 


EIGHT  HON.  EICHARD  BRINSLiJY  SHERIDAN.  227 


fatal  impression  which  they  had  made  ; — his  insulting  reservation 
of  the  Tea  Duty,  by  which  he  contrived  to  embitter  the  only 
measure  of  concession  that  was  wrung  from  him ; — the  obse- 
quiousness, with  which  he  made  himself  the  channel  of  the  vin- 
dictive feelings  of  the  Court,  in  that  memorable  declaration 
(rendered  so  truly  mock-heroic  by  the  event)  that  ‘‘  a total  repeal 
of  the  Port  Duties  could  not  be  thought  of,  till  America  was 
prostrate  at  the  feet  of  England  — all  deeply  involve  him  in 
the  shame  of  that  disastrous  period,  and  identify  his  name  with 
measures  as  arbitrary  and  headstrong,  as  have  ever  disgraced 
the  annals  of  the  English  monarchy. 

The  playful  wit  and  unvarying  good-humor  of  this  nobleman 
formed  a striking  contrast  to  the  harsh  and  precipitate  policy, 
which  it  was  his  lot,  during  twelve  stormy  years,  to  enforce  : — 
and,  if  his  career  was  as  headlong  as  the  torrent  near  its  fall, 
it  may  also  be  said  to  have  been  as  shining  and  as  smooth. 
These  attractive  qualities  secured  to  him  a considerable  share  of 
personal  popularity  ; and,  had  fortune  ultimately  smiled  on  his 
councils,  success  would,  as  usual,  have  reconciled  the  people  of 
England  to  any  means,  however  arbitrary,  by  which  it  had  been 
attained.  But  the  calamities,  and,  at  last,  the  hopelessness  of 
the  conflict,  inclined  them  to  moralize  upon  its  causes  and  char- 
acter. The  hour  of  Lord  North’s  ascendant  was  now  passing 
rapidly  away,  and  Mr.  Sheridan  could  not  have  joined  the  Op- 
position, at  a conjuncture  more  favorable  to  the  excitement  of 
his  powers,  or  more  bright  in  the  views  which  it  opened  upon  his 
ambition. 

He  made  his  first  speech  in  Parliament  on  the  20th  of  No- 
vember, 1780,  when  a petition  was  presented  to  the  House,  com- 
plaining of  the  undue  election  of  the  sitting  members  (himself 
and  Mr.  Monckton)  for  Stafford.  It  was  rather  lucky  for  him 
that  the  occasion  was  one  in  which  he  felt  personally  interestea, 
as  it  took  away  much  of  that  appearance  of  anxiety  for  display, 
which  might  have  attended  his  first  exhibition  upon  any  general 
subject.  The  fame,  however,  which  he  had  already  acquired  by 
his  literary  talents,  was  sufficient,  even  on  this  question,  to  awaken 


228  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

all  the  curiosity  and  expectation  of  his  audience  ; and  according- 
ly we  are  told  in  the  report  of  his  speech,  that  “ he  was  heard 
with  particular  attention,  the  House  being  uncommonly  still 
while  he  was  speaking.”  The  indignation,  which  he  expressed 
on  this  occasion  at  the  charges  brought  by  the  petition  against 
the  electors  of  Stafford,  was  coolly  turned  into  ridicule  by  Mr. 
Rigby,  Paymaster  of  the  Forces.  But  Mr.  Fox,  whose  eloquence 
was  always  ready  at  the  call  of  good  nature,  and,  like  the  shield 
of  Ajax,  had  “ ample  room  and  verge  enough,”  to  protect  not 
only  himself  but  his  friends,  came  promptly  to  the  aid  of  the 
young  orator ; and,  in  reply  to  Mr.  Rigby,  observed,  that  “ though 
those  ministerial  members,  who  chiefly  robbed  and  plundered 
their  constituents,  might  afterwards  affect  to  despise  them,  yet 
gentlemen,  who  felt  properly  the  nature  of  the  trust  allotted  to 
them,  would  always  treat  them  and  speak  of  them  with  respect.” 
It  was  on  this  night,  as  Woodfall  used  to  relate,  that  Mr. 
Sheridan,  after  he  had  spoken,  came  up  to  him  in  the  gallery, 
and  asked,  with  much  anxiety,  what  he  thought  of  his  first  at- 
tempt. The  answer  of  Woodfall,  as  he  had  the  courage  after- 
wards to  own,  was,  “ I am  sorry  to  say  I do  not  think  that  this 
is  your  line — you  had  much  better  have  stuck  to  your  former 
pursuits.”  On  hearing  wFich,  Sheridan  rested  his  head  upon  his 
hand  for  a few  minutes,  and  then  vehemently  exclaimed,  “ It  is 
in  me,  however,  and,  by  G — , it  shall  come  out.” 

It  appears,  indeed,  that  upon  many  persons  besides  Mr.  Wood- 
fall  the  impression  produced  by  this  first  essay  of  his  oratory 
was  far  from  answerable  to  the  expectations  that  had  been 
formed.  The  chief  defect  remarked  in  him  was  a thick  and  in- 
distinct mode  of  delivery,  which,  though  he  afterwards  greatly 
corrected  it,  was  never  entirely  removed. 

It  is  not  a little  amusing  to  find  him  in  one  of  his  early 
speeches,  gravely  rebuking  Mr.  Rigby  and  Mr.  Courtenay*  for 
the  levity  and  raillery  with  which  they  treated  the  subject  be- 
fore the  House, — thus  condemning  the  use  of  that  weapon  in 

* Feb.  26. — On  the  second  reading  of  the  Bill  for  the  better  regulation  of  His  Majesty’s 
Civil  List  Revenue 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  229 


other  hands,  which  soon  after  became  so  formidable  in  his  own. 
The  remarks  by  which  Mr.  Courtenay  (a  gentleman,  whose  live- 
ly wit  found  afterwards  a more  congenial  air  on  the  benches  of 
the  Opposition)  provoked  the  reprimand  of  the  new  senator  for 
Stafford,  are  too  humorous  to  be  passed  over  without,  at  least,  a 
specimen  of  their  spirit.  In  ridiculing  the  conduct  of  the  Op- 
position, he  observed : — 

Oh  liberty ! Oh  virtue ! Oh  my  country  ! had  been  the  pathetic,  though 
fallacious  cry  of  former  Oppositions  ; but  the  present  he  was  sure  acted  on 
purer  motives.  They  wept  over  their  bleeding  country,  he  had  no  doubt. 
Yet  the  patriot  ‘ eye  in  a fine  frenzy  rolling’  sometimes  deigned  to  cast 
a wishful  squint  on  the  riches  and  honors  enjoyed  by  the  minister  and  his 
venal  supporters.  If  he  were  not  apprehensive  of  hazarding  a ludicrous 
allusion,  (which  he  knew  was  always  improper  on  a serious  subject)  he 
would  compare  their  conduct  to  that  of  the  sentimental  alderman  in  one  of 
Hogarth’s  prints,  who,  when  his  daughter  is  expiring,  wears  indeed  a pa- 
rental face  of  grief  and  solicitude,  but  it  is  to  secure  her  diamond  ring  which 
he  is  drawing  gently  from  her  finger.” 

Mr.  Sheridan  (says  the  report)  rose  and  reprehended  Mr.  Courtenay 
for  turning  every  thing  that  passed  into  ridicule  ; for  having  introduced 
into  the  house  a style  of  reasoning,  in  his  opinion,  every  way  unsuitable  to 
the  gravity  and  importance  of  the  subjects  that  came  under  their  discus- 
sion. If  they  would  not  act  with  dignity,  he  thought  they  might,  at  least, 
debate  with  decency.  He  would  not  attempt  to  answer  Mr.  Courtenay’s 
arguments,  for  it  was  impossible  seriously  to  reply  to  what,  in  every  part, 
had  an  infusion  of  ridicule  in  it.  Two  of  the  honorable  gentlemen’s  similes, 
however,  he  must  take  notice  of.  The  one  was  his  having  insinuated  that 
the  Opposition  was  envious  of  those  who  basked  in  court  sunshine  ; and  de- 
sirous merely  to  get  into  their  places.  He  begged  leave  to  remind  the  honor- 
able gentleman  that,  though  the  sun  afforded  a genial  warmth,  it  also  oc- 
casioned an  intemperate  heat,  that  tainted  and  infected  everything  it  re- 
flected on.  That  this  excessive  heat  tended  to  corrupt  as  well  as  to  cherish  ; 
to  putrefy  as  well  as  to  animate  ; to  dry  and  soak  up  the  wholesome  juices  of 
the  body  politic,  and  turn  the  whole  of  it  into  one  mass  of  corruption.  If 
those,  therefore,  who  sat  near  him  did  not  enjoy  so  genial  a warmth  as  the 
honorable  gentleman,  and  those  who  like  him  kept  close  to  the  noble 
Lord  in  the  blue  ribbon,  he  was  certain  they  breathed  a purer  air,  an  air 
less  infected  and  less  corrupt.” 

This  florid  style,  in  which  Mr.  Sheridan  was  not  very  happy, 
be  but  rarely  used  in  liis  speeches  afterwards. 


230 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


The  first  important  subject  that  drew  forth  any  thing  like  a 
display  of  his  oratory  was  a motion  which  he  made  on  the  5th 
of  March,  1781,  “ For  the  better  regulation  of  the  Police  of 
Westminster.”  The  chief  object  of  the  motion  was  to  expose 
the  \unconstitutional  exercise  of  the  prerogative  that  had  been 
assumed,  in  employing  the  military  to  suppress  the  late  riots, 
without  waiting  for  the  authority  of  the  civil  power.  These  dis- 
graceful riots,  which  proved  to  what  Christianly  consequences 
the  cry  of  “No  Popery”  may  lead,  had  the  effect,  which  follows 
all  tumultuary  movements  of  the  people,  of  arming  the  Govern- 
ment with  new  powers,  and  giving  birth  to  doctrines  and  prece- 
dents permanently  dangerous  to  liberty.  It  is  a little  remark- 
able that  the  policy  of  blending  the  army  with  the  people  and 
considering  soldiers  as  citizens,  which  both  Montesquieu  and 
Blackstone  recommend  as  favorable  to  freedom,  should,  as  ap- 
plied by  Lord  Mansfield  on  this  occasion,  be  pronounced,  and 
perhaps  with  more  justice,  hostile  to  it ; the  tendency  of  such  a 
practice  being,  it  was  said,  to  weaken  that  salutary  jealousy, 
with  which  the  citizens  of  a free  state  should  ever  regard  a sol- 
dier, and  thus  familiarize  the  use  of  this  dangerous  machine,  in 
every  possible  service  to  which  capricious  power  may  apply  it. 
The  Opposition  did  not  deny  that  the  measure  of  ordering  out 
the  military,  and  empowering  their  officers  to  act  at  discretion 
without  any  reference  to  the  civil  magistrate,  was,  however  un- 
constitutional, not  only  justifiable  but  wise,  in  a moment  of  such 
danger.  But  the  refusal  of  the  minister  to  acknowledge  the  ille- 
gality of  the  proceeding  by  applying  to  the  House  for  an  Act  of 
Indemnity,  and  the  transmission  of  the  same  discretionary  orders 
to  the  soldiery  throughout  the  country,  where  no  such  imminent 
necessity  called  for  it,  were  the  points  upon  which  the  conduct 
of  the  Government  was  strongly,  and  not  unjustly,  censured. 

Indeed,  the  manifest  design  of  the  Ministry,  at  this  crisis,  to 
avail  themselves  of  the  impression  produced  by  the  riots,  as  a 
means  of  extending  the  frontier  of  their  power,  and  fortifying 
the  doctrines  by  which  they  defended  it,  spread  an  alarm  among 
the  friends  of  constitutional  principles,  which  the  language  of 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  231 


some  of  the  advocates  of  the  Court  was  by  no  means  calculated 
to  allay.  Among  others,  a Noble  Earl, — one  of  those  awkward 
worshippers  of  power,  who  bring  ridicule  alike  upon  their  idol 
and  themselves, — had  the  foolish  effrontery,  in  the  House  of 
Lords,  to  eulogize  the  moderation  which  His  Majesty  had  dis- 
played, in  not  following  the  recent  example  of  the  king  of  Swe- 
den, and  employing  the  sword,  with  which  the  hour  of  difficulty 
had  armed  him,  for  the  subversion  of  the  Constitution  and  the 
establishment  of  despotic  power.  Though  this  was  the  mere 
ebullition  of  an  absurd  individual,  yet  the  bubble  on  the  surface 
often  proves  the  strength  of  the  spirit  underneath,  and  the  pub- 
lic were  justified  by  a combination  of  circumstances,  in  attribu- 
ting designs  of  the  most  arbitrary  nature  to  such  a Court  and 
such  an  Administration.  Meetings  were  accordingly  held  in 
some  of  the  principal  counties,  and  resolutions  passed,  condemn- 
ing the  late  unconstitutional  employment  of  the  military.  Mr. 
Fox  had  adverted  to  it  strongly  at  the  opening  of  the  Session, 
and  it  is  a proof  of  the  estimation  in  which  Mr.  Sheridan  already 
stood  with  his  party,  that  he  was  the  person  selected  to  bring  for 
ward  a motion,  upon  a subject  in  which  the  feelings  of  the  public 
were  so  much  interested.  In  the  course  of  his  speech  he  said : — 

“ If  this  doctrine  was  to  be  laid  down,  that  the  Crown  could  give  orders 
to  the  military  to  interfere,  when,  where,  and  for  what  length  of  time  it 
pleases,  then  we  might  bid  farewell  to  freedom.  If  this  was  the  law,  we 
should  then  be  reduced  to  a military  government  of  the  very  worst  species, 
in  which  we  should  have  all  the  evils  of  a despotic  state,  without  the  disci- 
pline or  the  security.  But  we  were  given  to  understand,  that  we  had  the 
best  protection  against  this  evil,  in  the  virtue,  the  moderation,  and  the  con- 
stitutional principles  of  the  sovereign.  No  man  upon  earth  thought  with 
more  reverence  than  himself  of  the  virtues  and  moderation  of  the  sov- 
ereign ; but  this  was  a species  of  liberty  which  he  trusi;ed  would  never 
disgrace  an  English  soil.  The  liberty  that  rested  on  the  virtuous  inclina- 
tions of  any  one  man,  w^as  but  suspended  despotism  ; the  sword  was  not  in- 
deed upon  their  necks,  but  it  hung  by  the  small  and  brittle  thread  of  hu- 
man will.” 

The  following  passage  of  this  speech  affords  an  example  of 
that  sort  of  antithesis  of  epithet,  which,  as  has  been  already  re- 
marked, was  one  of  the  most  favorite  contrivances  of  his  style 


232 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Was  not  the  conduct  of  that  man  or  men  criminal,  who  had  permitted 
those  Justices  to  continue  in  the  commission?  Men  of  tried  inability  and 
convicted  deficiency  ! Had  no  attempt  been  made  to  establish  some  more 
effectual  system  of  police,  in  order  that  we  might  still  depend  upon  the 
remedy  of  the  bayonet,  and  that  the  military  power  might  be  called  in  to 
the  aid  of  contrived  weakness  and  deliberate  inattention 

One  of  the  few  instances  in  which  he  ever  differed  with  his 
friend,  Mr.  Fox,  occurred  during  this  session,  upon  the  subject 
of  a Bill  which  the  latter  introduced  for  the  Repeal  of  the  Mar- 
riage Act,  and  which  he  prefaced  by  a speech  as  characteristic  of 
the  ardor,  the  simplicity,  the  benevolence  and  fearlessness  of  his 
disposition,  as  any  ever  pronounced  by  him  in  public.  Some 
parts,  indeed,  of  this  remarkable  speech  are  in  a strain  of  feeling 
so  youthful  and  romantic,  that  they  seem  more  fit  to  be  addressed 
to  one  of  those  Parliaments  of  Love,  which  were4ield  during  the 
times  of  Chivalry,  than  to  a grave  assembly  employed  about  the 
sober  realities  of  life,  and  legislating  with  a view  to  the  infirmi- 
ties of  human  nature. 

The  hostility  of  Mr.  Fox  to  the  Marriage  Act  was  hereditary, 
as  it  had  been  opposed  with  equal  vehemence  by  his  father,  on 
its  first  introduction  in  1753,  when  a debate  not  less  memorable 
took  place,  and  when  Sir  Dudley  Ryder,  the  Attorney-general 
of  the  day,  did  not  hesitate  to  advance,  as  one  of  his  arguments 
in  favor  of  the  Bill,  that  it  would  tend  to  keep  the  aristocracy  of 
the  country  pure,  and  prevent  their  mixture  by  intermarriage 
with  the  mass  of  the  people.  However  this  anxiety  for  the 
‘‘  streams  select”  of  noble  blood,  or  views,  equally  questionable, 
for  the  accumulation  of  property  in  great  families,  may  have  in- 
fluenced many  of  those  with  whom  the  Bill  originated,- — however 
cruel,  too,  and  mischievous,  some  of  its  enactments  may  be 
deemed,  yet  the  general  effect  which  the  measure  was  intended 
to  produce,  of  diminishing  as  much  as  possible  the  number  of 
imprudent  marriages,  by  allowing  the  pilotage  of  parental  au- 
thority to  continue  till  the  first  quicksands  of  youth  are  passed, 
is,  by  the  majority  of  the  civilized  world,  acknowledged  to  be 
desirable  and  beneficial.  Mr.  Fox,  however,  thought  otherwise, 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  233 


and  though — “ bowing,”  as  he  said,  to  the  prejudices  of  man- 
kind,”— he  consented  to  fix  the  age  at  which  young  people  should 
be  marriageable  without  the  consent  of  parents,  at  sixteen  years 
for  the  woman  and  eighteen  for  the  man,  his  own  opinion  was 
decidedly  for  removing  all  restriction  whatever,  and  for  leaving 
the  “ heart  of  youth”  which,  in  these  cases,  was  “ wiser  than  the 
head  of  age,”  without  limit  or  control,  to  the  choice  which  its 
own  desires  dictated. 

He  was  opposed  in  his  arguments,  not  only  by  Mr.  Sheridan, 
but  by  Mr.  Burke,  whose  speech  on  this  occasion  was  found 
among  his  manuscripts  after  his  death,  and  is  enriched,  though 
short,  by  some  of  those  golden  sentences,  which  he  ‘‘  scattered 
from  his  urn”  upon  every  subject  that  came  before  him.'^  Mr. 
Sheridan,  for  whose  opinions  upon  this  subject  the  well-known 
history  of  his  own  marriage  must  have  secured  no  ordinary  de- 
gree of  attention,  remarked  that — 

“ His  honorable  friend,  who  brought  in  the  bill,  appeared  not  to  be  aware 
that,  if  he  carried  the  clause  enabling  girls  to  marry  at  sixteen,  he  would 
do  an  injury  to  that  liberty  of  which  he  had  always  shown  himself  the 
friend,  and  promote  domestic  tyranny,  which  he  could  consider  only  as 
little  less  intolerable  than  public  tyranny.  If  girls  were  allowed  to  marry 
at  sixteen,  they  would,  he  conceived,  be  abridged  of  that  happy  freedom  of 
intercourse,  which  modern  custom  had  introduced  between  the  youth  of 
both  sexes ; and  which  was.  in  his  opinion,  the  best  nursery  of  happy  mar- 
riages. Guardians  would,  in  that  case,  look  on  their  wards  wltli  a jealous 
eye,  from  a fear  that  footmen  and  those  about  them  might  take  advantage 
of  their  tender  years  and  immature  judgment,  and  persuade  them  into  mar- 
riage, as  soon  as  they  attained  the  age  of  sixteen.’^ 

It  seems  somewhat  extraordinary  that,  during  the  very  busy 
interval  which  p<assed  between  Mr.  Sheridan’s  first  appearance  in 
Parliament  and  his  appointment  under  Lord  Rockingham’s  ad- 

* In  alludingdto  Jlr.  Fox’s  too  favorable  estimate  of  the  capability  of  very  young  per- 
sons to  choose  for  themselves,  he  pa^’S  the  following  tribute  to  his  powers  : — “He  is  led 
into  it  by  a natural  and  to  him  inevitable  and  real  mistake,  that  the  ordinary  race  of  man- 
kind advance-as  fast  towards  maturity  of  judgment  and  understanding  as  he  has  done.” 
His  concluding  words  are  : — “Have  mercy  on  the  youth  of  i)oth  sexes  ; protect  them 
from  their  ignorance  and  inexperience  ; protect  one  part  of  life  by  the  wisdom  of 
ther  ; protect  them  by  the  wisdom  of  laws  and  the  care  of  nature.” 


234 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


ministration  in  1782,  he  should  so  rarely  have  taken  a part  in 
the  debates  that  occurred — interesting  as  they  were,  not  only 
from  the  importance  of  the  topics  discussed,  but  from  the  more 
than  usual  animation  now  infused  into  the  warfare  of  parties,  by 
the  last  desperate  struggles  of  the  Ministry  and  the  anticipated 
triumph  of  the  Opposition.  Among  the  subjects,  upon  which  he 
appears  to  have  been  rather  unaccountably  silent,  was  the  re- 
newal of  Mr.  Burke’s  Bill  for  the  Regulation  of  the  Civil  List, 
— an  occasion  memorable  as  having  brought  forth  the  maiden 
speech  of  Mr.  Pitt,  and  witnessed  the  first  accents  of  that  elo- 
quence which  was  destined,  ere  long,  to  sound,  like  the  shell  of 
Misenus,  through  Europe,  and  call  kings  and  nations  to  battle  by 
its  note.  The  debate  upon  the  legality  of  petitions  from  dele- 
gated bodies,  in  which  Mr.  Dunning  sustained  his  high  and  rare 
character  of  a patriot  lawyer ; — the  bold  proposal  of  Mr.  Thomas 
Pitt,  that  the  Commons  should  withhold  the  supplies,  till  pledges 
of  amendment  in  the  administration  of  public  affairs  should  be 
given ; — the  Bill  for  the  exclusion  of  Excise  Officers  and  Con- 
tractors from  Parliament,  which  it  was  reserved  for  a Whig  Ad- 
ministration to  pass ; — these  and  other  great  constitutional  ques- 
tions, through  which  Mr.  Burke  and  Mr.  Fox  fought,  side  by 
side,  lavishing  at  every  step  the  inexhaustible  ammunition  of  their 
intellect,  seem  to  have  passed  away  without  once  calling  into  ac- 
tion the  powers  of  their  new  and  brilliant  auxiliary,  Sheridan. 

The  affairs  of  Ireland,  too,  had  assumed  at  this  period,  under 
the  auspices  of  Mr.  Grattan  and  the  example  of  America,  a cha- 
racter of  grandeur,  as  passing  as  it  was  bright, — but  which  will 
long  be  remembered  with  melancholy  pride  by  her  sons,  and  as 
long  recall  the  memory  of  that  admirable  man,  to  whose  patri- 
otism  she  owed  her  brief  day  of  freedom,  and  upon  whose  name 
that  momentary  sunshine  of  her  sad  history  rests.  An  oppor- 
tunity of  adverting  to  the  events,  which  had  lately  laken  place 
in  Ireland,  was  afforded  by  Mr.  Fox  in  a motion  for  the  re-com- 
mitment of  the  Mutiny  Bill ; and  on  this  subject,  perhaps,  the 
silence  of  Mr.  Sheridan  may  be  accounted  for,  from  his  reluc- 
tance to  share  the  unpopularity  attached  by  his  countrymen  to 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  235 


those  high  notions  of  the  supremacy  of  England,  which,  on  the 
great  question  of  the  independence  of  the  Irish  Parliament,  both 
Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Burke  were  known  to  entertain.'^ 

Even  on  the  subject  of  the  American  war,  which  was  now  the 
important  point  that  called  forth  all  the  resources  of  attack  and 
defence  on  both  sides,  the  co-operation  of  Mr.  Sheridan  appears 
to  have  been  but  rare  and  casual.  The  only  occasions,  indeed, 
connected  with  this  topic  upon  which  I can  trace  him  as  having 
spoken  at  any  length,  were  the  charges  brought  forward  by  Mr. 
Fox  against  the  Admiralty  for  their  mismanagement  of  the  na- 
val affairs  of  1781,  and  the  Resolution  of  censure  on  His  Ma- 
jesty’s Ministers  moved  by  Lord  John  Cavendish.  His  remarks 
in  the  latter  debate  upon  the  two  different  sets  of  opinions,  by 
which  (as  by  the  double  soul,  imagined  in  Xenophon)  the  speak- 
ing and  the  voting  of  Mr.  Rigby  were  actuated,  are  very 
happy 

“ The  Right  Hon.  Gentleman,  however,  had  acted  in  this  day’s  debate  with 
perfect  consistency.  He  had  assured  the  House  that  he  thought  the  Noble 
Lord  ought  to  resign  his  office  ; and  yet  he  would  give  his  vote  for  his  re- 
maining in  it.  In  the  same  manner  he  had  long  declared,  that  he  thought 
the  American  war  ought  to  be  abandoned  ; yet  had  uniformly  given  his 
vote  for  its  continuance.  He  did  not  mean,  however,  to  insinuate  any  mo- 
tives for  such  conduct ; — he  believed  the  Right  Hon.  Gentleman  to  have 
been  sincere ; he  believed  that,  as  a member  of  Parliament,  as  a Privy 
Councillor,  as  a private  gentleman,  he  had  always  detested  the  American 
war  as  much  as  any  man  ; but  that  he  had  never  been  able  to  persuade  the 
Paymaster  that  it  was  a bad  war  ; and  unfortunately,  in  whatever  charac- 
ter he  spoke,  it  was  the  Paymaster  who  always  voted  in  that  House.” 

The  infrequency  of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  exertions  upon  the  Ameri- 

♦ As  the  few  beautiful  sentences  spoken  by  Burke  on  this  occasion,  in  support  of  his 
friend’s  motion,  have  been  somewhat  strangely  omitted  in  the  professed  collection  of  all 
his  Speeches,  I shall  give  them  here  as  they  are  reported  in  the  Parliamentary  History  : — 
“ Mr.  Burke  said,  so  many  and  such  great  revolutions  had  happened  of  late,  that  he  was 
not  much  surprised  to  hear  the  Right  Hon.  Gentleman  (Mr.  Jenkinson)  treat  the  loss  of  the 
supremacy  of  this  country  over  Ireland  as  a matter  of  very  little  consequence.  Thus, 
one  star,  and  th»:  the  brightest  ornament  of  our  orrery,  having  been  suffered  to  be  lost, 
those  who  were  accustomed  to  inspect  and  watch  our  political  heaven  ought  not  to  won- 
der that  it  should  be  followed  by  the  loss  of  another. — 

So  star  would  follow  star,  and  light  light, 

Till  a.l  was  darkness  and  eternal  night” 


236 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


can  question  combines  with  other  circunistances  to  throw  some 
doubts  upon  an  anecdote,  which  has  been,  however,  communica- 
ted to  me  as  coming  from  an  authority  'worthy  in  every  respect 
of  the  most  implicit  belief.  He  is  said  to  have  received,  to- 
wards the  close  of  this  war,  a letter  from  one  of  the  leading  per- 
sons of  the  American  Government,  expressing  high  admiration  of 
his  talents  and  political  principles,  and  informing  him  that  the 
sum  of  twenty  thousand  pounds  had  been  deposited  for.  him  in 
the  hands  of  a certain  banker,  as  a mark  of  the  value  'v^ich 
the  American  people  attached  to  his  services  in  the  cause  of 
liberty.  To  this  Mr.  S.  returned  an  answer  (which,  as  well  as 
the  letter,  was  seen,  it  is  said,  by  the  person  wdth  whom  the  anec- 
dote originated)  full  of  the  most  respectful  gratitude  for  the 
opinion  entertained  of  his  services,  but  begging  leave  to  decline 
a gift  under  such  circumstances.  That  this  would  have  been  the 
nature  of  his  answer,  had  any  such  proposal  occurred,  the  gene- 
rally high  tone  of  his  political  conduct  forbids  us  to  feel  any 
doubt, — but,  with  respect  to  the  credibility  of  the  transaction 
altogether,  it  is  far  less  easy  to  believe  that  the  Americans  had 
so  much  money  to  give,  than  that  Mr.  Sheridan  should  have  been 
sufficiently  high-minded  to  refuse  it. 

Not  only  were  the  occasions  very  few  and  select,  on  which  he 
offered  himself  to  the  attention  of  the  House  at  this  period,  but, 
whenever  he  did  speak,  it  was  concisely  and  unpretendingly, 
with  the  manner  of  a person  who  came  to  learn  a new  road  to 
fame, — not  of  one  who  laid  claim  to  notice  upon  the  credit  of 
the  glory  he  brought  with  him.  Mr.  Fox  used  to  say  that  he 
considered  his  conduct  in  this  respect  as  a most  striking  proof 
of  his  sagacity  and  good  taste ; — such  rare  and  unassuming  dis- 
plays of  his  talents  being  the  only  effectual  mode  he  could  have 
adopted,  to  win  on  the  attention  of  his  audience,  and  gradually 
establish  himself  in  their  favor.  He  had,  indeed,  many  difficul- 
ties and  disadvantages  to  encounter,  of  which  his  own  previous 
reputation  was  not  the  least.  Not  only  did  he  risk  a perilous 
comparison  between  his  powers  as  a speaker  and  his  fame  as  a 
■writers  but  he  had  also  to  contend  \vitli  tliat  feeling  of  monopoly. 


IliGHT  BOn.  RICHARB  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  23t 

which  pervades  the  more  worldly  classes  of  talent,  and  which 
would  lead  politicians  to  regard  as  an  intruder  upon  their  craft, 
a man  of  genius  thus  aspiring  to  a station  among  them,  without 
the  usual  qualifications  of  either  birth  or  apprenticeship  to  entitle 
him  to  it.*  In  an  assembly,  too,  whose  deference  for  rank  and 
property  is  such  as  to  render  it  lucky  that  these  instruments  of 
influence  are  so  often  united  with  honesty  and  talent,  the  son  of 
an  actor  and  proprietor  of  a theatre  had,  it  must  be  owned,  most 
fearful  odds  against  him,  in  entering  into  competition  with  the 
sons  of  Lord  Holland  and  Lord  Chatham. 

With  the  same  discretion  that  led  him  to  obtrude  himself  but 
seldom  on  the  House,  he  never  spoke  at  this  period  but  after 
careful  and  even  verbal  preparation.  Like  most  of  our  great 
orators  at  the  commencement  of  their  careers,  he  was  in  the  ha- 
bit of  writing  out  his  speeches  before  he  delivered  them  ; and, 
though  subsequently  he  scribbled  these  preparatory  sketches 
upon  detached  sheets,  I find  that  he  began  by  using  for  this  pur- 
pose the  same  sort  of  copy  books,  which  he  had  employed  in  the 
first  rough  draughts  of  his  plays. 

However  ill  the  affairs  of  the  country  were  managed  by  Lord 
North,  in  the  management  of  Parliament  few  ministers  have 
been  more  smoothly  dexterous ; and  through  the  whole  course  of 
those  infatuated  measures,  which  are  now  delivered  over,  without 
appeal,  to  the  condemnation  of  History,  he  was  cheered  along 
by  as  full  and  triumphant  majorities,  as  ever  followed  in  the 
wake  of  ministerial  power.  At  length,  however,  the  spirit  of 
the  people,  that  last  and  only  resource  against  the  venality  of 
parliaments  and  the  obstinacy  of  kings,  was  roused  from  its  long 
and  dangerous  sleep  by  the  unparalleled  exertions  of  the  Oppo- 

* There  is  an  anecdote  strong-ly  illustrative  of  this  observation,  quoted  by  Lord  John 
Russell  in  his  able  and  lively  work  “Oc  the  Aflairs  of  Europe  from  the  Peace  of  Utrecht.’’ 
—Mr.  Steele  (in  alluding  to  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer’s  opposition  to  the  Commercial  Treaty  ii. 
1714)  said,  “I  rise  to  do  him  honor” — on  which  many  members  who  had  before  tried  to 
interrupt  him,  called  out,  ‘ Tatler,  Tatler  ;’  and  as  he  went  doWn  the  House,  several  said, 
‘It  is  not  so  easy  a thing  to  speak  in  the  House  :’  ‘He  fancies  because  he  can  scribble, 
&c.  &c., — Slight  circumsi%.nces,  indeed,  (adds  Lord  John.)  but  which  show  at  once  the  in- 
disposition of  the  House  to  the  Whig  party,  and  the  natural  envy  of  mankind,  long  ago 
remarked  by  Cicero,  towards  all  who  attempt  to  gain  more  than  one  kind  of  pre-eminence.’* 


238 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


sition  leaders,  and  spoke  out  with  a voice,  always  awfully  intel- 
ligible, against  the  men  and  the  measures  that  had  brought  Eng- 
land to  the  brink  of  ruin.  The  effect  of  this  popular  feeling 
soon  showed  itself  in  the  upper  regions.  The  country-gentlemen, 
those  birds  of  political  omen,  whose  migrations  are  so  porten- 
tous of  a change  of  weather,  began  to  flock  in  numbers  to  the 
brightenmg  quarter  of  Opposition  ; and  at  last.  Lord  North,  after 
one  or  two  signal  defeats  (in  spite  even  of  which  the  Court  for 
some  time  clung  to  him,  as  the  only  hope  of  its  baffled,  but  per- 
severing revenge),  resigned  the  seals  of  office  in  the  month  of 
March,  1782,  and  an  entirely  new  administration  was  formed 
under  the  promising  auspices  of  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham. 

Mr.  Sheridan,  as  might  be  expected,  shared  in  the  triumph  of 
his  party,  by  being  appointed  one  of  the  Under  Secretaries  of 
State  ; and,  no  doubt,  looked  forward  to  a long  and  improving 
tenure  of  that  footing  in  office  which  his  talents  had  thtis  early 
procured  for  him.  But,  however  prosperous  on  the  surface  the 
complexion  of  the  ministry  might  be,  its  intestine  state  was  such 
as  did  not  promise  a very  long  existence.  Whiggism  is  a sort 
of  political  Protestantism,  and  pays  a similar  tax  for  the  freedom 
of  its  creed,  in  the  multiplicity  of  opinions  which  that  very  free 
dom  engenders — while  true  Toryism,  like  Popery,  holding  her 
children  together  by  the  one  common  doctrine  of  the  infallibility 
of  the  Throne,  takes  care  to  repress  any  schism  inconvenient  to 
their  general  interest,  and  keeps  them,  at  least  for  all  intents  and 
purposes  of  place-holding,  unanimous. 

Between  the  two  branches  of  Opposition  that  composed  the 
present  administration  there  were  some  very  important,  if  not 
essential,  differences  of  opinion.  Lord  Shelburne,  the  pupil  and 
friend  of  Lord  Chatham,  held  the  same  high  but  unwise  opinions, 
with  respect  to  the  recognition  of  American  independence,  which 
“ the  swan-like  end  ” of  that  great  man  has  consecrated  in  our 
imagination,  however  much  our  reason  may  condemn  them. 
“ Whenever,”  said  Lord  Shelburne,  “ the  Parliament  of  Great 
Britain  shall  acknowledge  the  independence  of  America,  from 
that  moment  the  sun  of  England  is  set  for  ever.”  With  regard 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  239 


to  the  affairs  of  India,  too,  and  the  punishment  of  those  who  were 
accused  of  mismanaging  them,  the  views  of  the  noble  Lord 
wholly  differed  from  those  of  Mr.  Fox  and  his  followers — as 
appeared  from  the  decided  part  in  favor  of  Mr.  Hastings,  which 
he  took  in  the  subsequent  measure  of  the  Impeachment.  In 
addition  to  these  fertile  seeds  of  disunion,  the  retention  in  the 
cabinet  of  a person  like  Lord  Thurlow,  whose  views  of  the  Con- 
stitution were  all  through  the  wrong  end  of  the  telescope,  and 
who  did  not  even  affect  to  conceal  his  hostility  to  the  principles 
of  his  colleagues,  seemed  such  a provision,  at  starting,  for  the 
embarrassment  of  the  Ministry,  as  gave  but  very  little  hope  of 
its  union  or  stability. 

The  only  Speech,  of  which  any  record  remains  as  having  been 
delivered  by  Mr.  Sheridan  during  his  short  official  career,  was 
upon  a motion  made  by  Mr.  Eden,  the  late  Secretary  for  Ire- 
land, “ to  repeal  so  much  of  the  act  of  George  I.  as  asserted  a 
right  in  the  King  and  Parliament  of  Great  Britain  to  make  laws 
to  bind  the  Kingdom  of  Ireland.”  This  motion  was  intended  to 
perplex  the  new  ministers,  who,  it  was  evident  from  the  speech 
of  Mr.  Fox  on  the  subject,  had  not  yet  made  up  their  minds  to 
that  surrender  of  the  Legislative  Supremacy  of  Great  Britain, 
which  Ireland  now,  with  arms  in  her  hands,  demand ed.“^  Mr. 
Sheridan  concurred  with  the  Honorable  Secretary  in  deprecating 
such  a hasty  and  insidious  agitation  of  the  question,  but  at  the 
same  time  expressed  in  a much  more  unhesitating  manner,  his 
opinion  of  that  Law  of  Subjection  from  which  Ireland  now  rose 
to  release  herself: 

“ If  he  declared  himself  (he  said)  so  decided  an  enemy  to  the  principle 
of  the  Declaratory  Law  in  question,  which  he  had  always  regarded  as  a 
tyrannous  usurpation  in  this  country,  he  yet  could  not  but  reprobate  the 
motives  which  influenced  the  present  mover  for  its  repeal — but,  if  the  house 
divided  on  it,  he  should  vote  with  him.’’ 

* Mr.  Fox,  in  his  speech  upon  the  Commercial  Propositions  of  1785,  acknowledged  the 
reluctance  that  was  felt  at  this  period,  in  surrendering  the  power  of  external  or  commer- 
cial legislation  over  Ireland  ; — a power,”  he  said,  “ which,  in  their  struggles  for  inde- 
pendence, the  Irish  had  imprudently  insisted  on  having  abolished,  and  which  he  had  him- 
self given  up  in  compliance  with  the  strong  prejudices  of  tliat  nation,  though  with  a re- 
luctance that  notliing  but  irresistible  necessity  could  overcome.” 


240 


MEMOIKS  OF  TilE  LIFE  OF  THE 


The  general  sense  of  the  House  being  against  the  motion,  it 
was  withdrawn.  But  the  spirit  of  the  Irish  nation  had  advanced 
too  far  on  its  march  to  be  called  back  even  bj  the  most  friendly 
voice.  All  that  now  remained  for  the  ministers  was  to  yield, 
with  a confiding  frankness,  what  the  rash  measures  of  their  pre- 
decessors and  the  weakness  of  England  had  put  it  out  of  their 
power  with  safety  to  refuse.  This  policy,  so  congenial  to  the 
disposition  of  Mr.  F ox,  was  adopted.  His  momentary  hesitation 
was  succeeded  by  such  a prompt  and  generous  acquiescence  in 
the  full  demands  of  the  Irish  Parliament,  as  gave  all  the  grace  of 
a favor  to  what  necessity  would,  at  all  events,  have  extorted — 
and,  in  the  spirited  assertion  of  the  rights  of  freemen  on  one  side, 
and  the  cordial  and  entire  recognition  of  them  on  the  other,  the 
names  of  Grattan  and  Fox,  in  that  memorable  moment,  reflected 
a lustre  on  each  other  which  associates  them  in  its  glory  for 
ever. 

Another  occasion  upon  which  Mr.  Sheridan  spoke  while  in 
office, — though  no  report  of  his  Speech  has  been  preserved — was 
a motion  for  a Committee  to  examine  into  the  State  of  the  Re- 
pi  esentation,  brought  forward  by  the  youthful  reformer,  Mr. 
William  Pitt,  w^hose  zeal  in  the  cause  of  freedom  was  at  that 
time,  perhaps,  sincere,  and  who  little  dreamed  of  the  war  he  was 
destined  to  wage  with  it  afterw^ards.  Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Sheridan 
spoke  strongly  in  favor  of  the  motion,  while,  in  compliance  with 
the  request  of  the  former,  Mr.  Burke  absented  himself  from  the 
discussion — giving  the  cause  of  Reform,  for  once,  a respite  from 
the  thunders  of  his  eloquence,  like  the  sleep  of  Jove,  in  Homer, 
which  leaves  the  Greeks  for  the  moment  masters  of  the  field. 
xvSog  o^a^s,  [xivuv^a  ‘Ti'Sp,  0{pp’  sri  svSsi 
Zsvg.^ 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  however,  the  question  w^as  lost  by  a 
majority  of  161  to  141. 

Immediately  on  his  accession  to  office,  Mr.  Sheridan  received 
the  following  letter  from  his  brother  Charles  Francis,  who  had 

* “And,  while  the  moment  lasts  of  Jove’s  repose, 

Make  victory  theirs.” 


COWPEK. 


RIGHT  HON.  KICHARH  BRINSLEY  SHERILAN.  241 


been  called  to  the  Irish  bar  in  1778  or  9,  but  was  at  this  time 
practising  as  a Special  Pleader ; — 

“ Dear  Dick,  Duhliuy  March  2^ y 1782. 

“ I am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  early  intelligence  con- 
cerning the  fate  of  the  Ministry,  and  give  you  joy  on  the  occasion, 
notwithstanding  your  sorrow  for  the  departure  of  the  good 
Opposition.  I understand  very  well  what  you  mean  by  this 
sorrow — but  as  you  may  be  now  in  a situation  in  which  you  may 
obtain  some  substantial  advantage  for  yourself,  for  God’s  sake 
improve  the  opportunity  to  the  utmost,  and  don’t  let  dreams  of 
empty  fame  (of  which  you  have  had  enough  in  conscience)  carry 
you  away  from  your  solid  interests. 

“ I return  you  many  thanks  for  Fox’s  letter.  I mean  for  your 
intention  to  make  him  write  one — for  as  your  good  intentions 
always  satisfy  your  conscience,  and  that  you  seem  to  think  the 
carrying  them  into  execution  to  be  a mere  trifling  ceremony,  as 
well  omitted  as  not,  your  friends  must  always  take  the  will  for 
the  deed,  I will  forgive  you,  however,  on  condition  that  you  will 
for  once  in  your  life  consider  that  though  the  will  alone  may 
perfectly  satisfy  yourself,  your  friends  would  be  a little  more, 
gratified  if  they  were  sometimes  to  see  it  accompanied  by  the 
deed — and  let  me  be  the  first  upon  whom  you  try  the  experiment. 
If  the  people  here  are  not  to  share  the  fate  of  their  patrons,  but 
are  suffered  to  continue  in  the  government  of  this  country,  I be- 
lieve you  will  have  it  in  your  power,  as  I am  certain  it  will  be  in 
your  inclination,  to  fortify  my  claims  upon  them  by  recommend- 
ations from  your  side  of  the  water,  in  such  a manner  as  to  insure 
to  me  what  I have  a right  to  expect  from  them,  but  of  which  I 
can  have  no  certainty  without  that  assistance.  I wish  the  present 
people  may  continue  here,  because  I certainly  have  claims  upon 

them,  and  considering  the  footing  that  Lord  C and  Charles 

Fox  are  on,  a recommendation  from  the  latter  would  now  have 
every  weight, — it  would  be  drawing  a bill  upon  Government  here, 
payable  at  sight,  which  they  dare  not  protest.  So,  dear  L)ick,  1 
shall  rely  upon  you  that  will  really  be  done  : ^nd,  to  confess  the 

VOL.  I. 


242 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


\ruth,  unless  it  be  done,  and  that  speedily,  I shall  be  complete!;) 
ruined,  for  this  damned  annuity,  payable  to  my  uncle,  plays  th( 
devil  with  me.  If  there  is  any  intention  of  recalling  the  people 
here,  I beg  you  will  let  me  know  it  as  soon  as  possible,  that  1 
may  take  my  measures  accordingly, — and  I think  I may  rely 

upon  you  also  that  whoever  comes  over  here  as  Lord  L 1, 

( shall  not  be  forgot  among  the  number  of  those  who  shall  be 
recommended  to  them. 

“ As  to  our  politics  here,  I send  you  a newspaper, — read  the 
resolutions  of  the  volunteers,  and  you  will  be  enabled  to  form 
some  idea  of  the  spirit  which  at  present  pervades  this  country. 
A declaration  of  the  independency  of  our  Parliament  upon  yours 
will  certainly  pass  our  House  of  Commons  immediately  after 
tjhe  recess ; government  here  dare  not,  cannot  oppose  it ; you 
will  see  the  volunteers  have  pledged  their  lives  and  fortunes  in 
support  of  the  measure.  The  grand  juries  of  every  county  have 
followed  their  example,  and  some  of  the  staunchest  friends  of 
government  have  been,  much  against  their  inclinations,  compelled 
to  sign  the  most  spirited  Eesolutions. 

“ A call  of  the  House  is  ordered  for  the  first  Tuesday  after 
the  recess,  and  circular  letters  from  the  Speaker  worded  in  this 
remarkable  manner,  “ that  the  members  do  attend  on  that  day 
as  they  tender  the  rights  of  IrelandP  In  short,  nothing  will 
satisfy  the  people  but  the  mosi.  unequivocal  assertion  of  the  total 
independence  of  the  Irish  legislatu:.*e.  This  flame  has  been  raised 
within  this  six  weeks,  and  is  entirely  owing  either  to  the  insidious 
design  or  unpardonable  inattention  of  the  late  administration,  in 
including,  or  suffering  to  be  included,  the  name  of  Ireland  in  he 
less  than  five  British  statutes  passed  last  sessions.  People  hero 
were  ignorant  of  this  till  Grattan  produced  the  five  Acts  to  the 
House  of  Commons,  one  of  which  Eden  had  been  so  imprudent 
as  to  publish  in  the  Dublin  gazette.  Previous  to  this  the  gene- 
ral sense  of  the  country  was,  that  the  mere  question  of  right 
should  be  suffered  to  sleep,  provided  the  exercise  of  the  power 
claimed  under  it  should  never  again  be  resorted  to  in  a single 
instance. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  243 


“ The  sooner  you  repeal  the  6th  of  G.  1.  the  better ; for,  be- 
lieve me,  nothing  short  of  that  can  now  preserve  union  and  cor- 
diality between  the  two  countries. 

“ I hope  my  father  and  you  are  very  good  friends  by  this.  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  send  you  the  remaining  501.  till  October,  as 
I have  been  disappointed  as  to  the  time  of  payment  of  the 
money  I expected  to  receive  this  month.  Let  me  entreat  you 
to  write  to  me  shortly  a few  words.  I beg  my  love  to  Mrs.  S. 
and  Tom. 

“ I am,  dear  Dick, 

“ Your  very  affectionate  brother, 

“ C.  F.  Sheridan.” 

The  expectations  of  the  writer  of  this  letter  were  not  disap- 
pointed. The  influence  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  added  to  his  own  claims, 
procured  for  him  the  office  of  Secretary  of  War  in  Ireland, — a 
situation,  which  the  greater  pliancy  of  his  political  principles 
contrived  to  render  a more  permanent  benefit  to  him  than  any 
that  his  Whig  brother  was  ever  able  to  secure  for  himself. 

The  death  of  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham  broke  up  this  short- 
lived Ministry,  which,  during  the  four  months  of  its  existence, 
did  more  perhaps  for  the  principles ^of  the  Constitution,  than 
any  one  administration  that  England  had  seen  since  the  Revolu- 
tion. They  were  betrayed,  it  is  true,  into  a few  awkw^ard  over- 
flowings of  loyalty,  which  the  rare  access  of  Whigs  to  the  throne 
may  at  once  account  for  and  excuse  : — and  Burke,  in  particular, 
has  left  us  a specimen  of  his  taste  for  extremes,  in  that  burst  of 
optimism  with  which  he  described  the  King’s  message,  as  “ the 
best  of  messages  to  the  best  of  people  from  the  best  of  kings'.” 
But  these  first  effects  of  the  atmosphere  of  a court,  upon  heads 
unaccustomed  to  it,  are  natural  and  harmless — while  the  mea- 
sures that  passed  during  that  brief  interval,  directed  against  the 
sources  of  Parliamentary  corruption,  and  confirmatory  of  the 
best  principles  of  the  Constitution,  must  ever  be  remembered  to 
the  honor  of  the  party  from  wffiich  they  emanated.  The  exclu- 
sion of  contractors  from  the  House  of  Commons — the  disquali- 


244 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


fication  of  revenue-officers  from  voting  at  elections— the  disfran- 
chisement of  corrupt  voters  at  Cricklade,  by  which  a second  pre- 
cedent* was  furnished  towards  that  plan  of  gradual  Reform, 
which  has,  in  our  own  time,  been  so  forcibly  recommended  by 
Lord  John  Russell — the  diminution  of  the  patronage  of  the 
Crown,  by  Mr.  Burke’s  celebrated  Billf — the  return  to  the  old 
constitutional  practicej  of  making  the  revenues  of  the  Crown  pay 
off  their  own  incumbrances,  which  salutary  principle  was  again 
lost  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Pitt — the  atonement  at  last  made  to 
the  violated  rights  of  electors,  by  the  rescinding  of  the  Resolu- 
tions relative  to  Wilkes — the  frank  and  cordial  understanding 
entered  into  with  Ireland,  which  identifies  the  memory  of  Mr. 
Fox  and  this  ministry  with  the  only  oasis  in  the  whole  desert  of 
Irish  history — so  many  and  such  important  recognitions  of  the 
best  principles  of  Whiggism,  followed  up,  as  they  were,  by  the 
Resolutions  of  Lord  John  Cavendish  at  the  close  of  the  Session, 
pledging  the  ministers  to  a perseverance  in  the  same  task  of 
purification  and  retrenchment,  give  an  aspect  to  this  short  period 
of  the  annals  of  the  late  reign,  to  which  the  eye  turns  for  relief 
from  the  arbitrary  complexion  of  the  rest ; and  furnish  us  with, 
at  least,  one  consoling  instance,  where  the  principles  professed 
by  statesmen,  when  in  opposition,  were  retained  and  sincerely 
acted  upon  by  them  in  power. 

On  the  death  of  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham,  Lord  Shelburne, 
without,  as  it  appears,  consulting  any  of  the  persons  attached  to 
that  nobleman,  accepted  the  office  of  first  Lord  of  the  Treasury  ; 
in  consequence  of  which  Mr.  Fox,  and  the  greater  number  of 
his  friends — among  whom  were  Mr.  Burke  and  Mr.  Sheridan — 
sent  in  their  resignations  ; while  General  Conway,  the  Duke  of 
Richmond,  and  one  or  two  other  old  allies  of  the  party,  remained 
in  office. 

* The  first  was  that  of  the  borough  of  Shorehain  in  1771. 

t This  Bill,  though  its  circle  of  retrenchment  was,  as  might  be  expected,  considerably 
narrowed,  when  the  Treasury  Bench  became  the  centre  from  which  he  described  it,  was 
yet  eminently  useful,  as  an  acknowledgment  from  ministerial  authority  of  the  necessity 
of  such  occasional  curtailments  of  the  Royal  influence. 

X First  departed  from  in  1769.  See  Burke’s  powerful  exposure  of  the  mischiefs  of  this 
jinovalion,  in  his  “ Thoughts  on  the  Causes  of  the  present  Discontents.” 


EIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  245 


To  a disposition  so  social  as  that  of  Mr.  Fox,  the  frequent  in- 
terruption and  even  loss  of  friendships,  which  he  had  to  sustain 
in  the  course  of  his  political  career,  must  have  been  a sad  alloy 
to  its  pleasure  and  its  pride.  The  fable  of  the  sheep  that  leaves 
its  fleece  on  the  bramble  bush  is  but  too  apt  an  illustration  of 
the  fate  of  him,  who  thus  sees  himself  stripped  of  the  comforts 
of  friendship  by  the  tenacious  and  thorny  hold  of  politics.  On 
the  present  occasion,  however,  the  desertion  of  his  standard  by 
a few  who  had  followed  him  cordially  in  his  ascent  to  power,  but 
did  not  show  the  same  alacrity  in  accompanying  his  voluntary 
fall,  was  amply  made  up  to  him  by  the  ready  devotion,  with 
which  the  rest  of  the  party  shared  his  fortunes.  The  disinterest- 
edness of  Sheridan  was  the  more  meritorious,  if,  as  there  is 
every  reason  to  believe,  he  considered  the  step  of  resignation  at 
such  a moment  to  be,  at  least,  hasty,  if  not  wholly  wrong.  In 
this  light  it  was,  indeed,  viewed  by  many  judicious  persons  at  the 
time,  and  the  assurances  given  by  the  Duke  of  Richmond  and 
General  Conway,  of  the  continued  adherence  of  the  cabinet  to 
the  same  principles  and  measures,  to  v^hich  they  were  pledged 
at  the  first  formation  of  the  ministry,  would  seem  to  confirm  the 
justice  of  the  opinion.  So  much  temper,  however,  had,  during 
the  few  months  their  union,  been  fermenting  between  the 
two  great  masses  of  which  the  administration  was  composed, 
that  it  would  have  been  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  for  the  Rock- 
ingham party  to  rally,  with  any  cordiality,  round  Lord  Shel- 
burne, as  a leader — howe^^er  they  might  still  have  been  content- 
ed to  co-operate  with  him,  had  he  remained  in  the  humble  sta- 
tion which  he  himself  had  originally  selected.  That  noble  Lord, 
too,  who  felt  that  the  sacrifice  which  he  had  considerately  made, 
in  giving  up  the  supremacy  of  station  to  Lord  Rockingham,  had, 
so  far  from  being  duly  appreciated  by  his  colleagues,  been  repaid 
only  with  increased  alienation  and  distrust,  could  hardly  be  ex- 
pected to  make  a second  surrender  of  his  advantages,  in  favor  of 
persons  who  had,  he  thought,  so  ungraciously  requited  him  for 
the  first.  In  the  mean  time  the  Court,  to  which  the  Rockingham 
party  was  odious,  had,  with  its  usual  p dicy,  hollowed  the  ground 


246 


MEMOIRS  OF  TJIE  LIFE  OF  THE 


beneath  them,  so  as  to  render  their  footing  neither  agreeable  nor 
safe.  The  favorite  object  in  that  quarter  being  to  compose  a 
ministry  of  those  convenient  ingredients,  called  “ King’s  friends,” 
Lord  Shelburne  was  but  made  use  of  as  a temporary  instrument, 
to  clear  away,  in  the  first  plane,  the  chief  obstacles  to  such  an 
arrangement,  and  then,  in  his  turn,  be  sacrificed  himself,  as  soon 
as  a more  subservient  system  could  be  organized.  It  was,  in- 
deed, only  upon  a strong  representation  from  his  Lordship  of 
the  impossibility  of  carrying  on  his  government  against  such  an 
Opposition,  without  the  infusion  of  fresh  and  popular  talent, 
that  the  royal  consent  was  obtained  to  the  appointment  of  Mr. 
Pitt — the  memory  of  whose  uncompromising  father,  asNvell  as 
the  first  achievements  on  his  own  youthful  shield,  rendered  him 
no  very  promising  accession  to  such  a scheme  of  government, 
as  was  evidently  then  contemplated  by  the  Court. 

In  this  state  of  affairs,  the  resignation  of  Mr.  Fox  and  his 
friends  was  but  a prompt  and  spirited  anticipation  of  what  must 
inevitably  have  taken  place,  under  circumstances  much  less  re- 
dounding to  the  credit  of  their  independence  and  disinterested- 
ness. There  is  little  doubt,  indeed,  that  with  the  great  majority 
of  the  nation,  Mr.  Fox  by  this  step  considerably  added  to  his 
popularity — and,  if  we  were  desired  to  point  out  the  meridian 
moment  of  his  fame,  we  should  fix  it  perhaps  at  this  splendid 
epoch,  before  the  ill-fated  Coalition  had  damped  the  confidence 
of  his  friends,  or  the  ascendancy  of  his  great  rival  had  multiplied 
the  number  of  his  enemies. 

There  is  an  anecdote  of  Mr.  Burke,  connected  with  this  period, 
the  credibility  of  which  must  be  left  to  the  reader’s  own  judgment. 
It  is  said  that,  immediately  upon  the  retirement  of  Mr.  Fox. 
while  Lord  John  Cavendish  (whose  resignation  was  for  a short 
time  delayed  by  the  despatch  of  some  oflicial  business)  was  still 
a minister,  Mr.  Burke,  with  a retrospect  to  the  sweets  of  ofhee 
which  showed  that  he  had  not  wholly  left  hope  behind,  endeav 
ored  to  open  a negotiation  through  the  medium  of  Lord  John, 
for  the  purpose  of  procuring,  by  some  arrangement,  either  for 
himself  or  his  son,  a Tellership  thou  in  the  possession  of  a rela- 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERILA.N.  247 

tive  of  Lord  Orford.  It  is  but  fair  to  add  that  this  curious  an- 
ecdote rests  chiefly  upon  the  authority  of  the  latter  nobleman.'^ 
The  degree  of  faith  it  receives  will,  therefore,  depend  upon  the 
balance  that  may  be  struck  in  our  comparative  estimate  between 
the  dismterestedness  of  Burke  and  the  veracity  of  Lord  Orford. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  following  session  that  extraor- 
dinary Coalition  was  declared,  which  had  the  ill-luck  attributed 
to  the  conjunction  of  certain  planets,  and  has  shed  an  unfavorable 
influence  over  the  political  world  ever  since.  Little  is,  I believe, 
known  of  the  private  negotiations  that  led  to  this  ill-assorted 
union  of  parties ; but,  from  whichever  side  the  first  advances 
may  have  come,  the  affair  seems  to  have  been  dispatched  with 
the  rapidity  of  a Siamese  courtship  ; and  while  to  Mr.  Eden  (af- 
terwards Lord  A uckland)  is  attributed  the  credit  of  having  gained 
Lord  North’s  consent  to  the  union,  Mr.  Burke  is  generally  sup- 
posed to  have  been  the  person,  who  sung  the  “ Hymen,  oh  Hy- 
menae”  in  the  ears  of  Mr.  Fox. 

With  that  sagacity,  which  in  general  directed  his  political 
views,  Mr.  Sheridan  foresaw  all  the  consequences  of  such  a de- 
fiance of  public  opinion,  and  exerted,  it  is  said,  the  whole  power 
of  his  persuasion  and  reasonii]g,  to  turn  aside  his  sanguine  and 
uncalcufating  friend  from  a measure  so  likely  to  embarrass  his 
future  career.  Unfortunately,  however,  the  advice  was  not 
taken, — and  a person,  who  witnessed  the  close  of  a conversation, 
in  which  Sheridan  had  been  making  a last  effort  to  convince  Air. 
Fox  of  the  imprudence  of  the  step  he  was  about  to  take,  heard 
the  latter,  at  parting,  express  his  final  resolution  in  the  followdng 
decisive  words: — ‘*It  is  as  fixed  as  the  Hanover  succession.” 

To  the  general  principle  of  Coalitions,  and  the  expediency  and 
even  duty  of  forming  them,  in  conjunctures  that  require  and  jus- 
tify such  a sacrifice  of  the  distinctions  of  party,  no  objection,  it 
appears  to  me,  can  rationally  be  made  by  those  who  are  satisfied 
with  the  manner  in  which  the  Constitution  has  worked,  since  the 
new  modification  of  its  machinery  introduced  at  the  Revolution. 
The  Revolution  itself  was,  indeed,  brought  about  by  a Coalition^ 


* Unpublished  Papers 


248 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


in  which  Tories,  surrendering  their  doctrines  of  submission,  ar- 
ray ^id  themselves  by  the  side  of  *Whigs,  in  defence  of  their  com- 
mon liberties.  Another  Coalition,  less  important  in  its  object 
and  effects,  but  still  attended  with  results  most  glorious  to  the 
country,  was  that  which  took  place  in  the  year  1757,  when,  by  a 
union  of  parties  from  whose  dissension  much  mischief  had  flowed, 
the  interests  of  both  king  and  people  were  reconciled,  and  the 
good  genius  of  England  triumphed  at  home  and  abroad. 

On  occasions  like  these,  when  the  public  liberty  or  safety  is  in 
peril,  it  is  the  duty  of  every  honest  statesman  to  say,  with  the 
Roman,  “ Non  me  invpedient  privatce  offensiones,  quo  minus  pro 
reiqmhlicce  salute  etiam  cum  inimicissimo  consentiam'^  Such 
cases,  however,  but  rarely  occur  ; and  they  have  been  in  this  re- 
spect, among  others,  distinguished  from  the  ordinary  occasions, 
on  which  the  ambition  or  selfishness  of  politicians  resorts  to  such 
unions,  that  the  voice  of  the  people  has  called  aloud  for  them  in 
the  name  of  the  public  weal ; and  that  the  cause  round  which 
they  have  rallied  has  been  sufficiently  general,  to  merge  all  party 
titles  in  the  one  undistinguishing  name  of  Englishman.  By  nei- 
ther of  these  tests  can  the  junction  between*Lord  North  and  ]\[r. 
Fox  be  justified.  The  people  at  large,  so  far  from  calling  for 
this  ill-omened  alliance,  would  on  the  contrary— to  use  the  lan- 
guage of  Mr.  Pitt — have  forbid  the  banns  and  though  it  is 
unfair  to  suppose  that  the  interests  of  the  public  did  not 
enter  into  the  calculations  of  the  united  leaders,  yet,  if  the 
real  watchword  of  their  union  were  to  be  demanded  of 
them  in  ^ the  Palace  of  Truth,”  there  can  be  little  doubt  that 
the  answer  of  each  would  be,  distinctly  and  unhesitatingly,  “Am- 
bition.” 

One  of  the  most  specious  allegations  in  defence  of  the  measure 
IS,  that  the  extraordinary  favor  which  Lord  Shelburne  enjoyed  at 
court,  and  the  arbitrary  tendencies  known  to  prevail  in  that 
quarter,  portended  just  then  such  an  overflow  of  Royal  influence, 
as  it  was  necessary  to  counteract  by  this  double  embankment  of 
party.  In  the  first  place,  however,  it  is  by  no  means  so  cer- 
tain that  the  nobl^  minister  at  this  period  did  actually  enjo;^ 


EIGHT  HOH.  EICHAKD  BKINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  249 

such  favor.  On  the  contrary,  there  is  every  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  his  possession  of  the  Royal  confidence  did  not  long 
survive  that  important  service,  to  which  he  was  made  instru- 
mental, of  clearing  the  cabinet  of  the  Whigs ; and  that,  like  the 
bees  of  Virgil,  he  had  left  the  soul  of  his  own  power  in  the 
wound  which  he  had  been  the  means  of  inflicting  upon  that  of 
others.  In  the  second  place,  whatever  might  have  been  the  de- 
signs of  the  Court, — and  of  its  encroaching  spirit  no  doubt  can  be 
entertained, — Lord  Shelburne  had  assuredly  given  no  grounds 
for  apprehending,  that  he  would  ever,  like  one  of  the  chiefs  of 
this  combination  against  him,  be  brought  to  lend  himself  precipi- 
tately or  mischievously  to  its  views.  Though  differing  from  Mr. 
Fox  on  some  important  points  of  policy,  and  following  the  ex- 
ample of  his  friend.  Lord  Chatham,  in  keeping  himself  indepen- 
dent of  Whig  confederacies,  he  was  not  the  less  attached  to  the 
true  principles  of  that  party,  and,  throughout  his  whole  political 
career,  invariably  maintained  them.  This  argument,  therefore, 
— the  only  plausible  one  in  defence  of  the  Coalition, — fails  in  the 
two  chief  assumptions  on  which  it  is  founded. 

It  has  been  truly  said  of  Coalitions,  considered  abstractedly, 
that  such  a union  of  parties,  when  the  public  good  requires  it,  is  to 
be  justified  on  the  same  grounds  on  which  party  itself  is  vindicated. 
But  the  more  we  feel  inclined  to  acknowledge  the  utility  of 
party,  the  more  we  must  dread  and  deprecate  any  unnecessary 
compromise,  by  which  a suspicion  of  unsoundness  may  be  brought 
upon  the  agency  of  so  useful  a principle — the  more  we  should 
discourage,  as  a matter  of  policy,  any  facility  in  surrendering 
those  badges  of  opinion,  on  which  the  eyes  of  followers  are  fond- 
ly fixed,  and  by  which  their  conlidence  and  spirit  are  chiefly  kept 
alive— the  more,  too,  we  must  lament  that  a great  popular  lead- 
er, like  Mr.  Fox,  should  ever  have  lightly  concurred  in  such  a 
confusion  of  the  boundaries  of  opinion,  and,  like  that  mighty 
river,  the  Mississippi,  whose  waters  lose  their  own  color  in  mix- 
ing with  those  of  the  Missouri,  have  sacrificed  the  distinctive  hue 
of  his  own  political  creed,  to  this  confluence  of  interests  with  a 
party  so  totally  opposed  to  it. 

VOL.  T.  11-^ 


250  MEMOIES  OP  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

“ Court  and  country,”  says  Hume,"^  “which  are  the  genuine 
offspring  of  the  British  government,  are  a kind  of  mixed  parties, 
and  are  influenced  both  by  principle  and  by  interest.  The  heads 
of  the  factions  are  commonly  most  governed  by  the  latter  mo- 
tive ; the  inferior  members  of  them  by  the  former.”  Whether 
this  be  altogether  true  or  not,  it  will,  at  least,  without  much 
difficulty  be  conceded,  that  the  lower  we  descend  in  the  atmos- 
phere of  party,  the  more  quick  and  inflammable  we  find  the  feel- 
ing that  circulates  through  it.  Accordingly,  actions  and  profes- 
sions, which,  in  that  region  of  indifference,  high  life,  may  be  for- 
gotten as  soon  as  done  or  uttered,  become  recorded  as  pledges 
and  standards  of  conduct,  among  the  lower  and  more  earnest 
adherents  of  the  cause  ; and  many  a question,  that  has  ceased  to 
furnish  even  a jest  in  the  drawing-rooms  of  the  great,  may  be 
still  agitated,  as  of  vital  importance,  among  the  humbler  and 
less  initiated  disputants  of  the  party.  Such  being  the  tenacious 
nature  of  partisanship,  and  such  the  watch  kept  upon  every 
movement  of  the  higher  political  bodies,  we  can  well  imagine 
what  a portent  it  must  appear  to  distant  and  unprepared  observ- 
ers, when  the  stars  to  which  they  trusted  for  guidance  are  seen 
to  “ shoot  madly  from  their  spheres,”  and  not  only  lose  them- 
selves for  the  time  in  another  system,  but  unsettle  all  calcula- 
tions with  respect  to  their  movements  for  the  future. 

The  steps  by  which,  in  general,  the  principles  in  such  transac- 
tions are  gradually  reconciled  to  their  own  inconsistency — the 
negotiations  that  precede  and  soften  down  the  most  salient  diffi- 
culties— the  value  of  the  advantages  gained,  in  return  for  opinions 
sacrificed — the  new  points  of  contact  brought  out  by  a change 
of  circumstances,  and  the  abatement  or  extinction  of  former 
differences,  by  the  remission  or  removal  of  the  causes  that  pro- 
voked them, — all  these  conciliatory  gradations  and  balancing 
adjustments,  which  to  those  who  are  in  the  secret  may  account 
for,  and  more  or  less  justify,  the  alliance  of  statesmen  who  dif 
fer  in  their  general  views  of  politics,  are  with  difficulty,  if  at  all, 


* Essay  “ on  the  Parties  of  Great  Britain.” 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  251 


to  be  explained  to  the  remote  multitude  of  the  party,  whose 
habit  it  is  to  judge  and  feel  in  the  gross,  and  who,  as  in  the  case 
of  Lord  North  and  Mr.  Fox,  can  see  only  the  broad  and  but  toe 
intelligible  fact,  that  the  leaders  for  wn3m.  both  parties  had  sac- 
rificed so  much — those  on  one  side  their  interest,  and  those  on 
the  other,  perhaps,  their  consciences — had  deserted  them  to 
patch  up  a suspicious  alliance  with  each  other,  the  only  open  and 
visible  motive  to  which  was  the  spoil  that  it  enabled  them  to 
partition  between  them.. 

If,  indeed,  in  that  barter  of  opinions  and  interests,  wnich  must 
necessarily  take  place  in  Coalitions  between  the  partisans  of  the 
People  and  of  the  Throne,  the  former  had  any  thing  like  an 
equality  of  chance,  the  mere  probability  of  gaining  thus  any  con- 
cessions in  favor  of  freedom  might  justify  to  sanguine  minds  the 
occasional  risk  of  the  compromise.  But  it  is  evident  that  the 
result  of  such  bargains  must  generally  be  to  the  advantage  of 
the  Crown — the  alluvions  of  power  all  naturally  tend  towards 
that  shore.  Besides,  where  there  are  places  as  w^ell  as  princi- 
ples to  be  surrendered  on  one  side,  there  must  in  return  be  so 
much  more  of  principles  given  up  on  the  other,  as  will  constitute 
an  equivalent  to  this  double  sacrifice.  The  centre  of  gravity 
vfill  be  sure  to  lie  in  that  body,  which  contevins  within  it  the 
source  of  emoluments  and  honors,  and  the  other  will  be  forced 
to  revolve  implicitly  round  it. 

The  only  occasion  at  this  period  on  which  Mr.  Sheridan  seems 
to  have  alluded  to  the  Coalition,  was  dining  a speech  of  some 
length  on  the  consideration  of  the  Preliminary  Articles  of 
.Peace.  Finding  himself  obliged  to  advert  to  the  subject,  he 
chose  rather  to  recrimliiate  on  the  opposite  party  for  the  anomaly 
of  their  own  alliances,  than  to  vindicate  that  whieh  his  distiiv 
guished  friend  had  just  fomied,  and  which,  in  his  heart,  as  has 
been  already  stated,  he  wholly  disapproved.  The  inconsistency 
of  the  Tory  Lord  Advocate  (Dundas)  in  connecting  himself 
with  the  patron  of  Equal  Representation,  Mr.  Pitt,  and  his  sup- 
port of  that  full  recognition  of  American  independence,  against 
which,  under  the  banners  of  Lord  North,  he  had  so  obstinately 


262 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


combated,  afforded  to  Sheridan’s  powers  of  raillery  an  opportu- 
nity of  display,  of  which,  there  is  no  doubt,  he  with  his  accus- 
tomed felicity  availed  himself.  The  reporter  of  the  'speech, 
however,  has,  as  usual,  contrived,  with  an  art  near  akin  to  that 
of  reducing  diamonds  to  charcoal,  to  turn  all  the  brilliancy  of 
his  wit  into  dull  and  opaqu  verbiage. 

It  was  during  this  same  debate,  that  he  produced  that  happy 
retort  upon  Mr.  Pitt,  which,  for  good-humored  point  and  season- 
ableness, has  seldom,  if  ever,  been  equalled. 

Mr.  Pitt  (say  the  Parliamentary  Reports),  was  pointedly  severe  on  the 
gentlemen  who  had  spoken  against  the  Address,  and  particularly  on  Mr. 
Sheridan.  ^ No  man  admired  more  than  he  did  the  abilities  of  that  Right 
Honorable  Gentleman,  the  elegant  sallies  of  his  thought,  the  gay  effusions 
of  his  fancy,  his  dramatic  turns  and  his  epigrammatic  point ; and  if  they 
were  reserved  for  the  proper  stage,  they  would,  no  doubt,  receive  what  the 
Honorable  Gentleman\s  abilities  always  did  receive,  the  plaudits  of  the  au- 
dience ; and  it  would  be  his  fortune  “ sui  plausu  gaudere  theatric  But 
this  was  not  the  proper  scene  for  the  exhibition  of  those  elegancies.^  Mr. 
Sheridan,  in  rising  to  explain,  said  that  ^ On  the  particular  sort  of  person- 
ality which  the  Right  Honorable  Gentleman  had  thought  proper  to  make 
use  of,  he  need  not  make  any  comment.  The  propriety,  the  taste,  the  gentle- 
manly point  of  it,  must  have  been  obvious  to  the  House.  But,  said  Mr. 
Sheridan,  let  me  assure  the  Right  Honorable  gentleman,  that  I do  now,  and 
will  at  any  time  he  chooses  to  repeat  this  sort  of  allusion,  meet  it  with  the 
most  sincere  good-humor.  Nay,  I will  say  more— flattered  and  encouraged 
by  the  Right  Honorable  Gentleman’s  panegyric  on  my  talents,  if  ever  I 
again  engage  in  the  compositions  he  alludes  to,  I may  be  tempted  to  an  act 
of  presumption — to  attempt  an  improvement  on  one  of  Ben  Jonson’sbest 
characters,  the  character  of  the  Angry  Boy  in  the  Alchymist  ’ ” 

Mr.  Sheridan’s  connection  with  the  stage,  though  one  of  the 
most  permanent  sources  of  his  glory,  was  also  a point,  upon 
which,  at  the  commencement  of  his  political  career,  his  pride  was 
most  easily  awakened  and  alarmed.  He,  himself,  used  to  tell  of 
the  frequent  mortifications  which  he  had  suffered,  when  at  school, 
from  taunting  allusions  to  his  father’s  profession — being  called 
by  some  of  his  school-fellows  “ the  player-boy,”  &c.  Mr.  Pitt 
had  therefore  selected  the  most  sensitive  spot  for  his  sarcasm  ; 
and  the  good  tenuper  a^s  well  as  keenness,  with  which  the  thrust 


RIGHT  HOK.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  253 


was  returned,  must  have  been  felt  even  through  all  that  pride  of 
youth  and  talent,  in  which  the  new  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer 
was  then  enveloped.  There  could  hardly,  indeed,  have  been  a 
much  greater  service  rendered  to  a person  in  the  situation  of 
Mr.  Sheridan,  than  thus  affording  him  an  opportunity  of  silen- 
cing, once  for  all,  a battery  to  which  this  w^eak  point  of  his  pride 
w’as  exposed,  and  by  which  he  might  otherwise  have  been  kept 
in  continual  alarm.  This  gentlemanlike  retort,  combined  with 
the  recollection  of  his  duel,  tended  to  place  him  for  the  future 
in  perfect  security  against  any  indiscreet  tamperings  with  his 
personal  history.'^ 

In  the  administration,  that  was  now  forced  upon  the  court  by 
the  Coalition,  Mr.  Sheridan  held  the  office  of  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury — the  other  Secretary  being  Mr.  Richard  Burke,  the 
brother  of  the  orator.  His  exertions  in  the  House,  while  he 
held  this  office,  were  chiefly  confined  to  financial  subjects,  for 
wffiich  he,  perhaps,  at  this  time,  acquired  the  taste,  that  tempted 
him  afterwards,  upon  most  occasions,  to  bring  his  arithmetic  into 
the  field  against  Mr.  Pitt.  His  defence  of  the  Receipt  Tax,  — 
which,  like  all  other  long-lived  taxes,  was  borne  with  difficulty,— 
appears,  as  far  as  we  can  judge  of  it  from  the  Report,  to  have 
been  highly  amusing.  Some  country-gentleman  having  recom- 


* The  following^  jeu  d'esprit,  written  by  Sheridan  himself  upon  this  occurrence,  has  been 
found  among  his  manuscripts  : — 

“ Advertisement  extraordinary. 


“ We  hear  that,  in  consequence  of  a hint,  lately  given  in  the  House  of  Commons,  the 
Play  of  the  Alchemist  is  certainly  to  be  performed  by  a set  of  Gentlemen  for  our  diversion 
in  a private  apartment  of  Buckingham  House. 

“ The  Characters,  thus  described  in  the  old  editions  of  Ben  Jonson,  are  to  be  represented 
in  the  following  manner — the  old  practice  of  men’s  playing  the  female  parts  being  adopt- 


Subtle  (the  Alchemist)  . 

Face  (the  House-keeper) 

Doll  Common  (their  Colleague) 
Drugger  (a  Tohacco-man) 
Epicure  Mammon  . 
Tribulation  . 

Ananias  (a  little  Pastor) 
KAotrill  (the  Angry  E yy) 
Dame  Pijant  .... 


. Lord  Sh— lb— e. 

. The  Lord  Ch— 11— r. 

. The  L — -d  Adv — c — te. 
. Lord  Eff— ng — m. 

. Mr.  R — by. 

. Dr.  J — nk — s — n. 

. Mr.  H— 11. 

• Mr.  W.  P — tt. 

. Gen.  C — nw — y 

. His » 


Surly 


254 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


mended  a tax  upon  grave-stones  as  a substitute  for  it.  Sheridan 
replied  that 

Such  a tax,  indeed,  was  not  easily  evaded,  and  could  not  he  deemed  op- 
pressive, as  it  would  only  be  once  paid ; but  so  great  was  the  spirit  of 
clamor  against  the  tax  on  receipts,  that  he  should  not  wonder  if  it  extend- 
ed to  them  ; and  that  it  should  be  asserted,  that  persons  having  paid  the  last 
debt, — the  debt  of  nature, — government  had  resolved  they  should  pay  a 
receipt-tax,  and  have  it  stamped  over  their  grave.  Nay,  with  so  extraor- 
dinary a degree  of  inveteracy  were  some  Committees  in  the  city,  and  else- 
where, actuated,  that  if  a receipt-tax  of  the  nature  in  question  was  enacted, 
he  should  not  be  greatly  surprised  if  it  were  soon  after  published,  that  such 
Committees  had  unanimously  resolved  that  they  would  never  be  buried,  in 
order  to  avoid  paying  the  tax  ; but  had  determined  to  lie  above  ground,  or 
have  their  ashes  consigned  to  family-urns,  in  the  manner  of  the  ancients.^’ 

He  also  took  an  active  share  in  the  discussions  relative  to  the 
restoration  of  Powell  and  Bembridge  to  their  offices  by  Mr. 
Burke  : — a transaction  which,  without  fixing  any  direct  stigma 
upon  that  eminent  man,  subjected  him,  at  least,  to  the  unlucky 
suspicion  of  being  less  scrupulous  in  his  notions  of  official  purity, 
than  became  the  party  which  he  espoused  or  the  principles  of 
Reform  that  he  inculcated. 

Little  as  the  Court  was  disposed,  during  the  late  reign,  to  re- 
tain Whigs  in  its  service  any  longer  than  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary, it  must  be  owned  that  neither  did  the  latter,  in  general, 
take  very  courtier-like  modes  of  continuing  their  connection  with 
Royalty  ; but  rather  chose  to  meet  the  hostility  of  the  Crown 
half-way,  by  some  overt  act  of  imprudence  or  courage,  which  at 
once  brought  the  matter  to  an  issue  between  them.  Of  this 
hardihood  the  India  Bill  of  Mr.  F ox  was  a remarkable  example 
— and  he  was  himself  fully  aware  of  the  risk  which  he  ran  in 
proposing  it.  “ He  knew,”  he  said,  in  his  speech  upon  first  bringing 
forward  the  question,  “ that  the  task  he  had  that  day  set  himself 
was  extremely  arduous  and  difficult;  he  knew  that  he  had  con- 
siderable risk  in  it ; but  when  he  took  upon  himself  an  office  of 
responsibility,  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  the  situation  and  the 
danger  of  it.  ’ 

Without  agreeing  with  those  who  impute  to  Mr.  Fox  the  ex- 
travagant design  of  mvesting  himself,  J3y  means  of  this  Bill,  with 


RIGHT  HOK.  RICHARB  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  255 

a sort  of  perpetual  Whig  Dictatorship,  independeRt  of  the  will  of 
the  Crown,  it  must  nevertheless  be  allowed  that,  together  with 
the  interests  of  India,  which  were  the  main  object  of  this  decisive 
measure,  the  future  interests  and  influence  of  his  own  party  were 
in  no  sm.all  degree  provided  for ; and  that  a foundation  was  laid 
by  it  for  their  attainment  of  a more  steady  footing  in  power 
than,  from  the  indisposition  of  the  Court  towards  them,  they  had 
yet  been  able  to  accomplish.  Eegarding — as  he  well  might,  after 
so  long  an  experience  of  Tory  misrule — a government  upon 
Whig  principles  as  essential  to  the  true  interests  of  England, 
and  hopeless  of  seeing  the  experiment  at  all  fairly  tried,  as  long 
as  the  political  existence  of  the  servants  of  the  Crown  was  left 
dependent  upon  the  caprice  or  treachery  of  their  master,  he 
would  naturally  welcome  such  an  accession  to  the  influence  of 
the  party  as  might  strengthen  their  claims  to  power  when  out  of 
office,  and  render  their  possession  of  it,  when  in,  more  secure  and 
useful.  These  objects  the  Bill  in  question  would  have,  no  doubt, 
effected.  By  turning  the  Pactolus  of  Indian  patronage  into  the 
territories  of  Whiggism,  it  would  have  attracted  new  swarms  of 
settlers  to  that  region, — the  Court  would  have  found  itself  out- 
bid in  the  market, —and,  however  the  principles  of  the  party 
might  eventually  have  fared,  the  party  itself  would  have  been 
so  far  triumphant.  It  was  indeed,  probably,  the  despair  of  ever 
obtaining  admission  for  Whiggism,  in  its  unalloyed  state,  into 
the  councils  of  the  Sv/vereign,  that  reconciled  Mr.  Eox  to  the 
rash  step  of  debasing  it  down  to  the  Court  standard  by  the 
Coalition — and,  having  once  gained  possession  of  power  by  these 
means,  he  saw,  in  the  splendid  provisions  of  the  India  Bill,  a 
chance  of  being  able  to  transmit  it  as  an  heir-loom  to  his  party, 
which,  though  conscious  of  the  hazard,  he  was  determined  to 
try.  If  his  intention,  therefore,  was,  as  his  enemies  say,  to 
establish  a Dictatorship  in  his  own  person,  it  was,  at  the  worst, 
such  a Dictatorship  as  the  Romans  sometimes  created,  for 
the  purpose  of  averting  the  plague — and  would  have  been  di- 
rected merely  against  that  pestilence  of  Toryism,  under  which 
the  prosperity  of  England  had,  he  thought,  languished  so  long 


256 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


It  was  hardly,  however,  to  be  expected  of  Royalty, — even 
after  the  double  humiliation  which  it  had  suffered,  in  being  van- 
quished by  rebels  under  one  branch  of  the  Coalition,  and  brow- 
beaten into  acknowledging  their  independence  by  the  other — that 
it  would  tamely  submit  to  such  an  undisguised  invasion  of  its 
sanctuary ; particularly  when  the  intruders  had  contrived  their 
operations  so  ill,  as  to  array  the  people  in  hostility  against  them, 
as  well  as  the  Throne.  Never  was  there  an  outcry  against  a 
ministry  so  general  and  decisive.  Dismissed  insultingly  by  the 
King  on  one  side,  they  had  to  encounter  the  indignation  of  the 
people  on  the  other ; and,  though  the  House  of  Commons,  with  a 
fidelity  to  fallen  ministers  sufficiently  rare,  stood  by  them  for  a 
time  in  a desperate  struggle  with  their  successors,  the  voice  of 
the  Royal  Prerogative,  like  the  horn  of  Astolpho,  soon  scattered 
the  whole  body  in  consternation  among  their  constituents, 
“ di  qua^  di  Za,  di  su,  di  giu^'‘  and  the  result  was  a complete  and 
long-enjoyed  triumph  to  the  Throne  and  Mr.  Pitt. 

Though  the  name  of  Mr.  Fox  is  indissolubly  connected  with 
this  Bill,  and  though  he  bore  it  aloft,  as  fondly  as  Csesar  did  his 
own  Commentaries,  through  all  this  troubled  sea  of  opposition, 
it  is  to  Mr.  Burke  that  the  first  daring  outline  of  the  plan,  as  well 
as  the  chief  materials  for  filling  it  up,  are  to  be  attributed, — 
whilst  to  Sir  Arthur  Pigot’s  able  hand  was  entrusted  the  legal 
task  of  drawing  the  Bill.  The  intense  interest  which  Burke  took 
in  the  affairs  of  India  had  led  him  to  lay  in  such  stores  of  infor- 
mation on  the  subject,  as  naturally  gave  him  the  lead  in  all 
deliberations  connected  with  it.  His  labors  for  the  Select 
Committee,  the  Ninth  Report  of  which  is  pregnant  with  his 
mighty  mind,  may  be  considered  as  the  source  and  foundation 
of  this  Bill — while  of  the  under-plot,  which  had  in  view  the 
strengthening  of  the  Whig  interest,  we  find  the  germ  in  his 
“ Thoughts  on  the  present  Discontents,”  where,  in  pointing  out 
the  advantage  to  England  of  being  ruled  by  such  a confederacy, 
he  says,  “ In  one  of  the  most  fortunate  periods  of  our  history, 
this  country  was  governed  by  a connection ; I mean  the  great 
connection  of  Whigs  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  ’’ 


EIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIdAN.  2o? 

Burke  was,  indeed,  at  this  time  the  actuating  spirit  of  the 
party — as  he  must  have  been  of  any  party  to  which  he  attached 
himself.  Keeping,  as  he  did,  the  double  engines  of  his  genius 
and  his  industry  incessandy  in  play  over  the  minds  of  his  more 
indolent  colleagues,  with  an  intentness  of  purpose  that  nothing 
could  divert,  and  an  impetuosity  of  temper  that  nothing  could 
resist,  it  is  not  wonderful  that  he  should  have  gained  such  an 
entire  mastery  over  their  wills,  or  that  the  party  who  obeyed 
him  should  so  long  have  exhibited  the  mark  of  his  rash  spirit 
imprinted  upon  their  measures.  The  yielding  temper  of  Mr. 
Fox,  together  with  his  unbounded  admiration  of  Burke,  led  him 
easily,  in  the  first  instance,  to  acquiesce  in  the  views  of  his  friend, 
and  then  the  ardor  of  his  own  nature,  and  the  self-kindling  power 
of  his  eloquence,  threw  an  earnestness  and  fire  into  his  public 
enforcement  of  those  views,  which  made  even  himself  forget  that 
they  were  but  adopted  from  another,  and  impressed  upon  his 
hearers  the  conviction  that  they  were  all,  and  from  the  first,  his 
own. 

We  read  his  speeches  in  defence  of  the  India  Bill  with  a sort 
of  breathless  anxiety,  which  no  other  political  discourses,  except 
those,  perhaps,  of  Demosthenes,  could  produce.  The  impor- 
tance of  the  stake  which  he  risks — the  boldness  of  his  plan — the 
gallantry  with  which  he  flings  himself  into  the  struggle,  and  the 
frankness  of  personal  feeling  that  breathes  throughout — all  throw 
around  him  an  interest,  like  that  which  encircles  a hero  of  ro- 
mance ; nor  could  the  most  candid  autobiography  that  ever  was 
written  exhibit  the  whole  character  of  the  man  more  transpa- 
rently through  it. 

The  death  of  this  ill-fated  Ministry  was  worthy  of  its  birth. 
Originating  in  a Coalition  of  Whigs  and  Tories,  which  compro- 
mised the  principles  of  freedom,  it  was  destroyed  by  a Coalition 
of  King  and  People,  which  is  even,  perhaps,  more  dangerous  to 
its  practice,^  The  conduct,  indeed,  of  all  estates  and  parties, 

* “ This  assumption  (says  Burke)  of  the  Tribunitian  power  by  the  Sovereign  was  truly 
alarming.  When  Augustus  Caesar  modestly  consented  to  become  the  Tribune  of  the  peo 
pie,  Rome  gave  up  into  the  hands  of  that  prince  the  only  remaining  shield  she  had  to  pro- 
tect her  liberty.  The  Tribunitian  power  m this  country,  as  in  ancient  Rome,  was  wisely 


258  MEMOIRS  OE  THE  LIEE  OE  THE 

during  th  s short  interval,  was  any  thing  but  laudable.  The  lea- 
ven of  the  unlucky  alliance  with  Lord  North  was  but  too  visi- 
ble in  many  of  the  measures  of  the  Ministry — in  the  jobbing 
terms  of  the  loan,  the  resistance  to  Mr.  Pitt’s  plan  of  retrench- 
ment, and  the  diminished  numbers  on  the  side  of  Parliamentary 
Reform.*  On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Pitt  and  his  party,  in  their 
eagerness  for  place,  did  not  hesitate  to  avail  themselves  of  the 
ambidexterous  and  unworthy  trick  of  representing  the  India  Bill 
to  the  people,  as  a Tory  plan  for  the  increase  of  Royal  influence, 
and  to  the  King,  as  a Whig  conspiracy  for  the  curtailment  of  it. 
The  King  himself,  in  his  arbitrary  interference  with  the  delibera- 
tions of  the  Lords,  and  the  Lords,  in  the  prompt  servility  with 
which  so  many  of  them  obeyed  his  bidding,  gave  specimens  of 
their  respective  branches  of  the  Constitution,  by  no  means  cre- 
ditable— while  finally  the  people,  by  the  unanimous  outcry  with 
which  they  rose,  in  defence  of  the  monopoly  of  Leadenhall  Street 
and  the  sovereign  will  of  the  Court,  proved  how  little  of  the 
“ vox  there  may  sometimes  be  in  such  clamor. 

Mr.  Sheridan  seems  to  have  spoken  but  once  during  the  dis- 
cussions on  the  India  Bill,  and  that  was  on  the  third  reading, 
when  it  was  carried  so  triumphantly  through  th3  House  of  Com- 
mons. The  report  of  his  speech  is  introduced  with  the  usual 
tantalizing  epithets,  “ witty,”  “ entertaining,”  &c.  &c. ; but,  as 
usual,  entails  disappointment  in  the  perusal — “ at  cum  intraveris^ 
Dii  Deoeque,  quam  nihil  in  medio  invenies  /”f  There  is  only  one 


kept  distinct  and  separate  from  the  executive  pow^r  ; in  this  g-overnment  it  was  constitu- 
tionally lodged  where  it  was  naturally  to  be  lodged,  in  the  House  of  Commons  ; and  to 
that  House  the  people  ought  first  to  carry  their  complaints,  even  when  they  were  directed 
against  the  measures  of  the  House  itself.  But  now  the  people  were  taught  to  pass  by  the 
door  of  the  House  of  Commons  and  supplicate  the  Throne  for  the  protection  of  their  liber- 
ties.”— Speech  on  moving  his  Representation  to  theKing^  in  June,  1784. 

♦ The  consequences  of  this  alloy  were  still  more  visible  in  Ireland.  “The  Coalition 
Ministry,”  says  Mr.  Hardy,  “displayed  itself  in  various  employments — but  there  was  no 
harmony.  The  old  courtiers  hated  the  new,  and  being  more  dexterous,  were  more  suc- 
cessful.” In  stating  that  Lord  Cbarlemont  was  but  coldly  received  by  the  Lord  Lieuten- 
ant, Lord  Northington,  Mr.  Hardy  adds,  “ It  is  to  be  presumed  that  some  of  the  old  Court, 
who  in  consequence  of  the  Coalition  had  crept  once  more  into  favor,  influenced  his  con- 
duct in  this  particular.” 
f Plmy. 


HIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  269 


of  the  announced  pleasantries  forthcoming,  in  any  shape,  through 
the  speech.  Mr.  Scott  (the  present  Lord  Eldon)  had,  in  the 
course  of  the  debate,  indulged  in  a license  of  Scriptural  parody, 
which  he  would  himself,  no  doubt,  be  among  the  first  to  stigma- 
tize as  blasphemy  in  others,  and  had  affected  to  discover  the  rudi- 
ments of  the  India  Bill  in  a Chapter  of  the  Book  of  Revelations, 
— Babylon  being  the  East  India  Company,  Mr.  Fox  and  his  seven 
Commissioners  the  Beast  with  the  seven  heads,  and  the  marks 
on  the  hand  and  forehead,  imprinted  by  the  Beast  upon  those 
around  him,  meaning,  evidently,  he  said,  the  peerages,  pensions, 
and  places  distributed  by  the  minister.  In  answering  this  strange 
sally  of  forensic  wit,  Mr.  Sheridan  quoted  other  passages  from  the 
same  Sacred  Book,  which  (as  the  Reporter  gravely  assures  us) 
“ told  strongly  for  the  Bill,”  and  which  proved  that  Lord  Fitz- 
william  and  his  fellow-commissioners,  instead  of  being  the  seven 
heads  of  the  Beast,  were  seven  Angels  “ clothed  in  pure  and 
white  linen !” 


260 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES. — FINANCIAL  MEASURES. — MR. 

PITT’S  east  INDIA  BILL. — IRISH  COMMERCIAL  PROPO- 
SITIONS.— PLAN  OF  THE  DUKE  OF  RICHMOND. — SINK- 
ING FUND. 

The  Whigs,  who  had  now  every  reason  to  be  convinced  of  the 
aversion  with  which  they  were  regarded  at  court,  had  latel} 
been,  in  some  degree,  compensated  for  this  misfortune  by  the  ac- 
cession to  their  party  of  the  Heir  Apparent,  who  had,  since  the 
year  1783,  been  in  the  enjoyment  of  a separate  establishment, 
and  taken  his  seat  in  the  House  of  Peers  as  Duke  of  Cornwall. 
That  a young  prince,  fond  of  pleasure  and  impatient  of  restraint, 
should  have  thrown  himself  into  the  arms  of  those  who  were 
most  likely  to  be  indulgent  to  his  errors,  is  nothing  surprising, 
either  in  politics  or  ethics.  But  that  mature  and  enlightened 
statesmen,  with  the  lessons  of  all  history  before  their  eyes,  should 
have  been  equally  ready  to  embrace  such  a rash  alliance,  or 
should  count  upon  it  as  any  more  than  a temporary  instrument 
of  faction,  is,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  one  of  those  self-delusions  of 
the  wise,  which  show  how  vainly  the  voice  of  the  Past  may 
speak  amid  the  loud  appeals  and  temptations  of  the  Present. 
The  last  Prince  of  Wales,  it  is  true,  by  whom  the  popular  cause 
was  espoused,  had  left  the  lesson  imperfect,  by  dying  before  he 
came  to  the  throne.  But  this  deficiency  has  since  been  amply 
made  up  ; and  future  Whigs,  who  may  be  placed  in  similar  cir- 
cumstanced, will  have,  at  least,  one  historical  warning  before  their 
eyes,  which  ought  to  be  enough  to  satisfy  the  most  unreflecting 
and  credulous. 

In  some  points,  the  breach  that  now  took  place  between  the 


BIGHT  HON.  EICHABD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  261 


Prince  and  the  King,  bore  a close  resemblance  to  that  which  had 
disturbed  the  preceding  reign.  In  both  cases,  the  Royal  parents 
were  harsh  and  obstinate — in  botlrcases,  money  was  the  chief 
source  of  dissension — and,  in  both  cases,  the  genius,  wit,  and  ac- 
complishments of  those  with  whom  the  Heir  Apparent  connected 
himself,  threw  a splendor  round  the  political  bond  between  them, 
which  prevented  even  themselves  from  perceiving  its  looseness 
and  fragility. 

In  the  late  question  of  Mr.  Fox’s  India  Bill,  the  Prince  of 
Wales  had  voted  with  his  political  friends  in  the  first  division. 
But,  upon  finding  afterwards  that  the  King  was  hostile  to  the 
measure,  his  Royal  Highness  took  the  prudent  step  (and  with  Mr. 
Fox’s  full  concurrence)  of  absenting  himself  entirely  from  the  se- 
cond  discussion,  when  the  Bill,  as  it  is  known,  was  finally  defeated. 
This  circumstance,  occurring  thus  early  in  their  intercourse,  might 
have  proved  to  each  of  the  parties  in  this  ill-sorted  alliance,  ho^\ 
difficult  it  was  for  them  to  remain  long  and  creditably  united.'^ 
On  the  one  side,  there  was  a character  to  be  maintained  with  the 
people,  which  a too  complaisant  toleration  of  the  errors  of  roy- 

* The  following  sensible  remarks  upon  the  first  interruption  of  the  political  connection 
between  the  Heir  Apparent  and  the  Opposition,  are  from  an  unfinished  life  of  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan now  in  my  possession — written  by  one  whose  boyhood  was  passed  in  the  society  of 
the  great  men  whom  he  undertook  to  commemorate,  and  whose  station  and  talents  would 
have  given  to  such  a work  an  authenticity  and  value,  that  would  have  rendered  the  hum- 
ble memorial,  which  I have  attempted,  unnecessary  : — 

“ His  Koyal  Highness  acted  upon  this  occasion  by  Mr.  Fox’s  advice  and  with  perfect 
propriety.  At  the  same  time  the  necessity  under  which  he  found  himself  of  so  acting 
may  serve  as  a general  warning  to  Princes  of  the  Blood  in  this  country,  to  abstain  from 
connecting  themselves  with  party,  and  engaging  either  as  active  supporters  or  opponents 
of  the  administration  of  the  day.  The  ties  of  family,  the  obligations  of  their  situation, 
the  feelings  of  the  public  assuredly  will  condemn  them,  at  some  time  or  other,  as  in  the 
present  instance,  to  desert  their  own  public  acts,  to  fail  in  their  private  professions,  and 
to  leave  their  friends  at  the  very  moment,  in  which  service  and  support  are  the  most  im- 
periously required. 

“ Princes  are  always  suspected  proselytes  to  the  popular  side.  Conscious  of  this  sus- 
picion, they  strive  to  do  it  away  by  exaggerated  professions,  and  by  bringing  to  the  party 
which  they  espouse  more  violent  opinions  and  more  unmeasured  language  than  any 
which  they  find.  These  mighty  promises  they  soon  find  it  unreasonable,  impossible,  in- 
convenient to  fulfil.  Their  dereliction  of  their  principles  becomes  manifest  and  indefensi- 
ble, in  proportion  to  the  vehemence  with  w’^hich  they  have  pledged  themselves  always  tc 
maintain  them  ; r.nd  the  contempt  and  indignation  which  accompanir;s  their  retreat  is 
equivalent  to  the  expectations  excited  by  the  boldness  and  deter  Jiination  of  their  ad 
Y^ce.” 


262 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


alt^  might — and,  as  it  happened,  did  compromise  ; while,  on  the 
other  side,  there  were  the  obligations  of  filial  duty,  which,  as  in 
this  instance  of  the  India  Bill,  made  desertion  decorous,  at  a 
time  when  co-operation  would  have  been  most  friendly  and  de- 
sirable. There  was  also  the  perpetual  consciousness  of  being 
destined  to  a higher  station,  in  which,  while  duty  would  perhaps 
demand  an  independence  of  all  party  whatever,  convenience 
would  certainly  dictate  a release  from  the  restraints  of  Whig- 
gisrn. 

It  was  most  fortunate  for  Mr.  Sheridan,  on  the  rout  of  his 
party  that  ensued,  to  find  himself  safe  in  his  seat  for  Stafford 
once  more,  and  the  following  document,  connected  with  his  elec- 
tion, is  sufficiently  curious,  in  more  respects  than  one,  to  be  laid 
before  the  reader : 

R,  B,  Sheridan,  Esq.  Expenses  at  the  Borough  of  Stafford  for 
Election.,  Anno  1784. 


284  Burgesses,  paid  £5  5 0 each £1,302  0 0 

Yearly  Expenses  since. 

£ s.  d. 

House-rent  and  taxes 23  6 6 

Servant  at  6s.  per  week,  board  wages. ...  15  12  0 

Ditto,  yearly  wages 8 8 0 

Coals,  &c 10  0 0 

Ale  tickets 40  0 0 

Half  the  members’  plate 25  0 0 

Swearing  young  burgesses 10  0 0 

Subscription  to  the  Infirmary 5 5 0 

Ditto  Clergymen’s  widows 2 2 0 

Ringers 4 4 0 

86  11  0 


One  year 143  17  6 


Multiplied  by  years. ...  6 

863  5 0 

Total  expense  of  six  years’  parliament,  exclusive  of  ex- 
pense incurred  during  the  time  of  election,  and  your 
own  annual  expenses ? ^ ^ 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  263 


The  followers  of  the  Coalition  had  been  defeated  in  almost  all 
directions,  and  it  was  computed  that  no  less  than  160  of  them 
had  been  left  upon  the  field, — with  no  other  consolation  than 
what  their  own  wit  afforded  them,  in  the  title  w'hich  they  be- 
stowed upon  themselves  of  “ Fox’s  Martyrs.” 

This  reduction  in  the  ranks  of  his  enemies,  at  the  very  com- 
mencement of  his  career,  left  an  open  space  for  the  youthful 
minister,  which  was  most  favorable  to  the  free  display  of  his 
energies.  He  had,  indeed,  been  indebted,  throughout  the  whole 
struggle,  full  as  much  to  a lucky  concurrence  of  circumstances 
as  to  his  talents  and  name  for  the  supremacy  to  which  he  so 
rapidly  rose.  All  the  other  eminent  persons  of  the  day  had  , ei- 
ther deeply  entangled  themselves  in  party  ties,  or  taken  the 
gloss  off  their  reputations  by  some  unsuccessful  or  unpopular 
measures  ; and  as  he  was  the  only  man  independent  enough  of 
the  House  of  Commons  to  be  employed  by  the  King  as  a weapon 
against  it,  so  was  he  the  only  one  sufficiently  untried  in  public 
life,  to  be  able  to  draw  unlimitedly  on  the  confidence  of  the 
people,  and  array  them,  as  he  did,  in  all  the  enthusiasm  of  igno- 
rance, on  his  side.  Without  these  two  advantages,  which  he 
owed  to  his  youth  and  inexperience,  even  loftier  talents  than  his 
would  have  fallen  far  short  of  his  triumph. 

The  financial  affairs  of  the  country,  which  the  war  had  consider- 
ably deranged,  and  which  none  of  the  ministries  that  ensued  felt 
sure  enough  of  themselves  to  attend  to,  were,  of  course,  among 
the  first  and  most  anxious  objects  of  his  administration  ; and  the 
wisdom  of  the  measures  which  he  brought  forward  for  their 
amelioration  was  not  only  candidly  acknowledged  by  his  oppo- 
nents at  the  time,  but  forms  at  present  the  least  disputable 
ground,  upon  which  his  claim  to  reputation  as  a finance-minister 
rests.  Having  found,  on  his  accession  to  power,  an  annual  defi- 
ciency of  several  millions  in  the  revenue,  he,  in  the  course  of 
two  years,  raised  the  income  of  the  country  so  high  as  to  afford 
a surplus  for  the  establishment  of  his  Sinking  Fund.  Nor  did 
his  merit  lie  only  in  the  mere  increase  of  income,  but  in  the 
generally  sound  principles  of  the  taxation  by  which  he  aocom 


264 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


plished  it,  in  the  improvements  introduced  into  the  collection  of 
.the  revenue,  and  the  reform  effected  in  the  offices  connected  with 
it,  by  the  simplification  of  the  mode  of  keeping  public  accounts. 

Though  Mr.  Sheridan  delivered  his  opinion  upon  many  of  the 
taxes  proposed,  his  objections  were  rather  to  the  details  than  the 
general  object  of  the  measures  ; and  it  may  be  reckoned,  indeed, 
a part  of  the  good  fortune  of  the  minister,  that  the  financial  de- 
partment of  Opposition  at  this  time  was  not  assumed  by  any 
more  adventurous  calculator,  who  might  have  perplexed  him,  at 
least  by  ingenious  cavils,  however  he  might  have  failed  to  defeat 
him  by  argument.  As  it  was,  he  had  the  field  almost  entirely  to 
himself ; for  Sheridan,  though  acute,  was  not  industrious  enough 
to  be  formidable,  and  Mr.  Fox,  from  a struggle,  perhaps,  between 
candor  and  party-feeling,  absented  himself  almost  entirely  from 
the  discussion  of  the  new  taxes."^ 

The  only  questions,  in  which  the  angry  spirit  of  the  late  con- 
flict still  survived,  were  the  W estminster  Scrutiny  and  Mr.  Pitt’s 
East  India  Bill.  The  conduct  of  the  minister  in  the  former  trans- 
action showed  that  his  victory  had  not  brought  with  it  those 
generous  feelings  towards  the  vanquished,  which,  in  the  higher 
order  of  minds,  follows  as  naturally  as  the  calm  after  a tempest. 
There  must,  indeed,  have  been  something  peculiarly  harsh  and 
unjust  in  the  proceedings  against  his  great  rival  on  this  occasion, 
which  could  induce  so  many  of  the  friends  of  the  minister — 
then  in  the  fulness  of  his  popularity  and  power — to  leave  him 
in  a minority  and  vote  against  the  continuance  of  the  Scrutiny. 
To  this  persecution,  however,  we  are  indebted  for  a speech  of 
Mr.  Fox,  which  is  (as  he,  himself,  in  his  opening,  pronounced  it 
would  be)  one  of  his  best  and  noblest ; and  which  is  reported, 
too,  with  such  evident  fidelity,  as  well  as  spirit,  that  we  seem  to 
hear,  while  we  read,  the  “ Demosthenem  ipsum‘’‘  uttering  it. 

Sheridan  had,  it  appears,  written  a letter,  about  this  time,  to 
his  brother  Charles,  in  which,  after  expressing  the  feelings  of 

* “He  had  absented  himself,”  he  said,  “upon  principle  ; that,  though  he  might  not  be 
able  to  approve  of  the  measures  which  had  been  adopted,  he  did  not  at  the  same  time 
think  hiu'self  authorized  to  condemn  them,  or  to  give  them  opposition,  unless  he  had  been 
ready  to  suggest  others  less  distressing  to  the  subject  ” — Speech  on  Navy  Bills,  dc,  dSs. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  265 


himself  and  his  brother  Whigs,  at  the  late  unconstitutional  vic- 
tory over  their  party,  he  added,  “ But  you  are  all  so  void  of 
principle,  in  Ireland,  that  you  cannot  enter  into  our  situation,’’ 
Charles  Sheridan,  who,  in  the  late  changes,  had  not  thought  it 
necessary  to  pay  his  principles  the  compliment  of  sacrificing  his 
place  to  them,  considered  himself,  of  course,  as  included  in  this 
stigma ; and  the  defence  of  time-serving  politics  which  he  has 
set  up  in  his  answer,  if  not  so  eloquent  as  that  of  the  great  Ro- 
man master  of  this  art  in  his  letter  to  L<^ntulus,  is,  at  least,  as 
self-conscious  and  labored,  and  betrays  altogether  a feeling  but 
too  worthy  of  the  political  meridian  f^om  which  it  issued. 

‘‘My  dear  Dick,  Dublin  Castle^  \0tti  March^  1784. 

“ I am  much  obliged  to  you  fo"  the  letter  you  sent  me  by 
Orde ; I began  to  think  you  had  forgot  I was  in  existence,  but  I 
forgive  your  past  silence  o:i  account  of  your  recent  kind  atten- 
tion. The  new  Irish  administration  have  come  with  the  olive 
branch  in  their  hand,  and  very  wisely,  I think  ; the  system,  the 
circumstances,  and  the  m.anners  cf  the  two  countries  are  so  tew 
tally  different,  that  I can  assure  ycu  nothing  could  be  so  absurd 
as  any  attempt  to  extend  the  party-distinctions  which  prevail  on 
your  side  of  the  water,  to  this.  Nothing,  I will  venture  to  as- 
sert, can  possibly  preserve  the  connection  between  England  and 
Ireland,  but  a permanent  government  here,  acting  upon  fixed 
principles,  and  pursuing  systematic  measures.  For  this  reason 
a change  of  Chief  Governor,  ought  to  be  nothing  more  than  a 
simple  transfer  of  government,  and  by  no  means  to  make  any 
change  in  that  political  system  respecting  this  country  which 
England  must  adopt,  let  who  will  be  the  minister  and  w^hichever 
party  may  acquire  the  ascendancy,  if  she  means  to  preserve  Ire- 
land as  a part  of  the  British  empire. 

“You  will  say  this  is  a very  good  plan  for  people  in  place,  as 
it  tends  to  secure  them  against  all  contingencies,  but  this,  I give 
you  my  word,  is  not  my  reason  for  thinking  as  I do.  I must, 
in  the  first  place,  acquaint  you  that  there  never  can  be  hereafter 
in  this  country  any  such  thing  as  party  connections  founded  upop 

VOL  I,  1 ^ 


266 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


political  principles ; we  have  obtained  all  the  great  objects  fol 
which  Ireland  had  contended  for  many  years,  and  there  does  not 
now  remain  one  national  object  of  sufficient  importance  to  unite 
men  in  the  same  pursuit.  Nothing  but  such  objects  ever  did 
unite  men  in  this  kingdom,  and  that  not  from  principle,  but  be- 
cause the  spirit  of  the  people  was  so  far  roused  with  respect  tc 
points  in  which  the  pride,  the  interest,  the  commerce,  and  the 
prosperity  of  the  nation  at  large  was  so  materially  concerned, 
that  the  House  of  Commons,  if  they  had  not  the  virtue  to  for- 
ward, at  least  wanted  the  courage  to  oppose,  the  general  and  de- 
termined wish  of  the  whole  kingdom ; they  therefore  made  a 
virtue  of  necessity,  joined  the  standard  of  a very  small  popular 
party  ; both  Ins  and  Outs  voted  equally  against  government, 
the  latter  of  course,  and  the  former  because  each  individual 
thought  himself  safe  in  the  number  who  followed  his  example. 

“ This  is  the  only  instance,  I believe,  in  the  history  of  Irish 
politics,  where  a party  ever  appeared  to  act  upon  public  princi- 
ple, and  as  the  cause  of  this  singular  instance  has  been  removed 
by  the  attainment  of  the  only  objects  which  could  have  united 
men  in  one  pursuit,  it  is  not  probable  that  we  shall  in  future  fur- 
nish any  other  example  that  will  do  honor  to  our  public  spirit. 
If  you  reflect  an  instant,  you  will  perceive  that  our  subordinate 
situation  necessarily  prevents  tlie  fsrmation  of  any  party  among 
us,  like  those  you  have  in  England,  3omnosed  of  persons  acting 
upon  certain  principles,  and  pledged  to  support  each  other.  I 
am  willing  to  allow  you  that  your  exertions  are  directed  by 
public  spirit ; but  if  those  exertions  did  net  lead  to  power ^ you 
must  acknowledge  that  it  is  probable  they  would  not  be  made, 
or,  if  made,  that  they  would  not  be  of  much  ust,.  The  object 
of  a party  in  England  is  either  to  obtain  power  for  themselves, 
or  to  take  it  from  those  who  are  in  possession  of  it — they  may 
do  this  from  the  purest  motives,  and  with  the  truest  regard  for 
the  public  good,  but  still  you  must  allow  that  power  is  a very 
tempting  object,  the  hopes  of  obtaining  it  no  small  incentive  to 
their  exertions,  and  the  consequences  of  success  to  the  individuals 
of  which  the  party  is  composed,  no  small  strengthening  to  the 


EIGHT  HOH.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  267 


bands  which  unite  them  together.  Now,  if  you  were  to  expect 
similar  parties  to  be  formed  in  Ireland,  you  would  exact  of  us 
more  virtue  than  is  necessary  for  yourselves.  From  the  pecu- 
liar situation  of  this  country  it  is  impossible  that  the  exertions  of 
any  party  here  can  ever  lead  to  power.  Here  then  is  one  very 
tempting  object  placed  out  of  our  reach,  and,  with,  it,  all  those 
looked-for  consequences  to  individuals,  which,  with  you,  induce 
them  to  pledge  themselves  to  each  other ; so  that  nothing  but 
poor  public  spirit  would  be  left  to  keep  our  Irish  party  together, 
and  consequently  a greater  degree  of  disinterestedness  would 
be  necessary  in  them,  than  is  requisite  in  one  of  your  English 
parties. 

“That  no  party  exertion  here  can  ever  lead  to  power  is  ob- 
vious when  you  reflect,  that  we  have  in  fact  no  Irish  government ; 
all  power  here  being  lodged  in  a branch  of  the  English  govern- 
ment, we  have  no  cabinet,  no  administration  of  our  own,  no 
great  offices  of  state,  every  office  we  have  is  merely  ministerial, 
it  confers  no  power  but  that  of  giving  advice,  which  may  or  may 
not  be  followed  by  the  Chief  Governor.  As  all  power,  there- 
fore, is  lodged  solely  in  the  English  government,  of  which  the 
Irish  is  only  a branch,  it  necessarily  follows  that  no  exertion  of 
any  party  here  could  ever  lead  to  power,  unless  they  overturned 
the  English  government  in  this  country,  or  unless  the  efforts  of 
such  a party  in  the  Irish  House  of  Commons  could  overturn  the 
British  administration  in  England,  and  the  leaders  of  it  get  into  their 
places ; — the  first,  you  will  allow,  would  not  be  a very  wise  ob- 
ject, and  the  latter  you  must  acknowledge  to  be  impossible. 

“ Upon  the  same  principle,  it  would  be  found  very  difficult  to 
form  a party  in  this  country  which  should  co-operate  with  any 
particular  party  in  England,  and  consent  to  stand  or  fall  with 
them.  The  great  leading  interests  in  this  kingdom  are  of  course 
strongly  averse  to  forming  any  such  connections  on  your  side  of 
the  water,  as  it  would  tend  to  create  a fluctuation  in  the  affairs 
of  this  country,  that  would  destroy  all  their  consequence  ; and, 
as  to  the  personal  friends  which  a party  in  England  may  possi- 
bly have  in  this  country,  they  must  in  the  nature  of  things  be 


268 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


few  in  number,  and  consequently  could  only  injure  themselves 
by  following  the  fortunes  of  a party  in  England,  without  being 
able  to  render  that  party  the  smallest  service.  And,  at  all 
events,  to  such  persons  this  could  be  nothing  but  a losing  game. 
It  would  be,  to  refuse  to  avail  themselves  of  their  connections  or 
talents  in  order  to  obtain  office  or  honors,  and  to  rest  all  their 
pretensions  upon  the  success  of  a party  in  another  kingdom,  to 
which  success  they  could  not  in  the  smallest  degree  contribute. 
You  will  admit  that  to  a party  in  England,  no  friends  on  this 
side  of  the  water  would  be  worth  having  who  did  not  possess 
connections  or  talents  ; and  if  they  did  possess  these,  they  must 
of  course  force  themselves  into  station,  let  the  government  of 
this  country  be  in  whose  hands  it  may,  and  that  upon  a much 
more  permanent  footing  than  if  they  were  connected  with  a par- 
ty in  England.  What  therefore  could  they  gain  by  such  a con- 
nection ? nothing  but  the  virtue  of  self-denial,  in  continuing  out 
of  office  as  long  as  their  friends  were  so,  the  chance  of  coming 
in,  when  their  friends  obtained  power,,  and  only  the  chance,  foi 
there  are  interests  in  this  country  which  must  not  be  offended  ; 
and  the  certainty  of  going  out  whenever  their  friends  in  Eng- 
land should  be  dismissed.  So  that  they  would  exchange  the 
certainty  of  station  upon  a permanent  footing  acquired  by  their 
own  efforts,  connections  or  talents,  for  the  chance  of  station  upon 
a most  precarious  footing,  in  which  they  would  be  placed  in  the 
insignificant  predicament  of  doing  nothing  for  themselves,  and 
resting  their  hopes  and  ambition  upon  the  labors  of  others. 

‘‘  In  addition  to  what  I have  said  respecting  the  consequences 
of  the  subordinate  situation  of  this  country,  you  are  to  take  into 
consideration  how  peculiarly  its  inhabitants  are  circumstanced. 
Two  out  of  three  millions  are  Roman  Catholics — I believe  the 
proportion  is  still  larger — and  two-thirds  of  the  remainder 
are  violent  rank  Presbyterians,  who  have  always  been,  but  most 
particularly  of  late,  strongly  averse  to  all  government  placed  in 
the  hands  of  the  members  of  the  church  of  England  ; nine-tenths 
of  the  property,  the  landed  property  of  the  country  I mean,  is 
in  the  possession  of  the  latter,  You  will  readily  conceive  how 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  269 


much  these  circumstances  must  give  persons  of  property  in  this 
kingdom  a leaning  towards  government ; ho  w necessarily  they  must 
make  them  apprehensive  for  themselves,  placed  between  such 
potent  enemies ; and  how  naturally  it  must  make  them  look  up 
to  English  government,  in  whatever  hands  it  may  be,  for  that 
strength  and  support,  which  the  smallness  of  their  numbers  pre- 
vents their  finding  among  themselves ; and  consequently  you 
will  equally  perceive  that  those  political  or  party  principles 
which  create  such  serious  differences  among  you  in  England,  are 
matters  of  small  importance  to  the  persons  of  landed  property 
in  this  country,  when  compared  with  the  necessity  of  their  hav- 
ing the  constant  support  of  an  English  government.  Here,  my 
dear  Dick,  is  a very  long  answer  to  a very  few  lines  in  your 
postscript.  But  I could  not  avoid  boring  you  on  the  subject, 
when  you  say  ‘ that  we  are  all  so  void  of  principle  that  we  can- 
not enter  into  your  situation.’ 

“ I have  received  with  the  greatest  pleasure  the  accounts  of 
the  very  considerable  figure  you  have  made  this  sessions  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  As  I have  no  doubt  but  that  your  Parlia- 
ment will  be  dissolved,  God  send  you  success  a second  time  at 
Stafford,  and  the  same  to  your  friend  at  Westminster.  I will 
not  forgive  you  if  you  do  not  give  me  the  first  intelligence  of  both 
those  events.  I shall  say  nothing  to  you  on  the  subject  of  your 
English  politics,  only  that  I feel  myself  much  more  partial  to 
one  side  of  the  question  than,  in  my  present  situation,  it  would 
be  of  any  use  to  me  to  avow.  I am  the  happiest  domestic  man 
in  the  world,  and  am  in  daily  expectation  of  an  addition  to  that 
happiness,  and  own  that  a home,  which  I never  leave  without  re- 
gret, nor  return  to  without  delight,  has  somewhat  abated  my 
passion  for  politics,  and  that  warmth  I once  felt  about  public 
questions.  But  it  has  not  abated  the  warmth  of  my  private 
friendships  ; it  has  not  abated  my  regard  for  Fitzpatrick,  my 
anxiety  for  you,  and  the  warmth  of  my  wishes  for  the  success 
of  your  friends,  considering  them  as  such.  I beg  my  love  to 
Mrs.  Sheridan  and  Tom,  and  am,  dear  Dick, 

“ Most  affectionately  yours,  C.  F.  Sheridan.” 


270 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


With  respect  to  the  Bill  for  the  better  government  of  !^ndia^ 
which  Mr.  Pitt  substituted  for  that  of  his  defeated  rival,  its  pro 
visions  are  now,  from  long  experience,  so  familiarly  known,  that 
it  would  be  superfluous  to  dwell  upon  either  their  merits  or 
defects.*  The  two  important  points  in  which  it  differed  from  the 
measure  of  Mr.  Fox  were,  in  leaving  the  management  of 
their  commercial  concerns  still  in  the  hands  of  the  Company, 
and  in  making  the  Crown  the  virtual  depositary  of  Indian  patron- 
age,f  instead  of  suffering  it  to  be  diverted  into  the  channels  of 
the  Whig  interest, — never,  perhaps,  to  find  its  way  back  again. 
In  which  of  these  directions  such  an  accession  of  power  might, 
with  least  mischief  to  the  Constitution,  be  bestowed,  having  the 
experience  only  of  the  use  made  of  it  on  one  side,  we  cannot,  with 
any  certainty,  pretend  to  determine.  One  obvious  result  of  this 
transfer  of  India  to  the  Crown  has  been  that  smoothness  so  re- 
markable in  the  movements  of  the  system  ever  since — that  easy 
and  noiseless  play  of  its  machinery,  which  the  lubricating  contact 
of  Influence  alone  could  give,  and  which  was  wholly  unknown  in 
Indian  policy,  till  brought  thus  by  Mr.  Pitt  under  ministerial  con- 
trol. When  we  consider  the  stormy  course  of  Eastern  politics 
before  that  period — the  inquiries,  the  exposures,  the  arraignments 
that  took  place — the  constant  hunt  after  Indian  delinquency,  in 
which  Ministers  joined  no  less  keenly  than  the  Opposition — and 
then  compare  all  this  with  the  tranquillity  that  has  reigned,  since 
the  halcyon  incubation  of  the  Board  of  Control  over  the  waters, 

* Three  of  the  principal  provisions  were  copied  from  the  Propositions  of  Lord  North  in 
1781 — in  allusion  to  which  Mr.  Powys  said  of  the  measure,  that  “it  was  the  voice  of  Ja- 
cob, but  the  hand  of  Esau.’’ 

f “Mr.  Pitt’s  Bill  continues  the  form  of  the  Company’s  government,  and  professes  to 
leave  the  patronage  under  certain  conditions,  and  the  commerce  without  condition,  in  the 
hands  of  the  Company  ; but  places  all  matters  relating  to  the  civil  and  military  govern- 
ment and  revenues  in  the  hands  of  six  Commissioners,  to  be  nominated  and  appointed  by 
His  Majesty,  under  the  title  of  ‘Commissioners  of  the  Affairs  of  India,’  which  Board  of 
Commissioners  is  invested  with  the  ‘ superintendence  and  control  over  all  the  British  ter- 
ritorial possessions  in  the  East  Indies,  and  over  the  affairs  of  the  United  Company  of  Mer- 
chants trading  thereto.’  ” — Comparative  Statement  of  the  Two  Bills,  read  from  his  place  by 
Mr.  Sheridan,  on  the  Discussion  of  the  Declaratory  Acts  in  1788,  and  afterwards  published. 

In  another  part  of  this  statement  he  says,  “The  present  Board  of  Control  have,  under 
Mr.  Pitt’s  Bill,  usurped  those  very  imperial  prerogatives  from  the  Crown,  which  were 
falsely  said  to  have  been  given  to  the  new  Board  of  Directors  under  Mr.  Fox’s  Bill.” 


illGHl’  fiON.  BICHARD  BRI^TSLEY  SHEHtDAN.  2?1 


“though  we  may  allow  the  full  share  that  actual  reform  and  a 
better  system  of  government  may  claim  in  this  change,  there  is 
still  but  too  much  of  it  to  be  attributed  to  causes  of  a less 
elevated  nature, — ‘to  the  natural  abatement  of  the  watchfulness 
of  the  minister,  over  affairs  no  longer  in  the  hands  of  others, 
and  to  that  power  of  Influence,  which,  both  at  home  and  abroad, 
is  the  great  and  ensuring  bond  of  tranquillity,  and,  like  the 
Chain  of  Silence  mentioned  in  old  Irish  poetry,  binds  all  that 
come  within  its  reach  in  the  same  hushing  spell  of  compromise 
and  repose. 

It  was  about  this  time  that,  in  the  course  of  an  altercation  with 
Mr.  Rolle,  the  member  for  Devonshire,  Mr.  Sheridan  took  the 
opportunity  of  disavowing  any  share  in  the  political  satires  then 
circulating,  under  the  titles  of  “ The  Rolliad  ” and  the  “ Proba- 
tionary Odes.”  “ He  was  aware,”  he  said,  “that  the  Honorable 
Gentlemen  had  suspected  that  he  was  either  the  author  of  those 
compositions,  or  some  way  or  other  concerned  in  them ; but  he 
assured  them,  upon  his  honor,  he  was  not — nor  had  he  ever  seen 
a line  of  them  till  they  were  in  print  in  the  newspaper.” 

Mr.  Rolle,  the  hero  of  The  Rolliad,  was  one  of  those  unlucky 
persons,  whose  destiny  it  is  to  be  immortalized  by  ridicule,  and 
to  whom  the  world  owes  the  same  sort  of  gratitude  for  the  wit 
of  which  they  were  the  butts,  as  the  merchants  did,  in  Sinbad’s 
story,  to  those  pieces  of  meat  to  which  diamonds  adhered.  The 
chief  offence,  besides  his  political  obnoxiousness,  by  which  he 
provoked  this  satirical  warfare,  (whose  plan  of  attack  was  all 
arranged  at  a club  held  at  Becket’s,)  was  the  lead  which  he  took 
in  a sort  of  conspiracy,  formed  on  the  ministerial  benches,  tc 
interrupt,  by  coughing,  hawking,  and  other  unseemly  noises,  the 
speeches  of  Mr.  Burke.  The  chief  writers  of  these  lively  pro- 
ductions were  Tick  ell,  General  Fitzpatrick,*  Lord  John  j-Towns 

♦ To  General  Fitzpatrick  some  of  the  happiest  pleasantries  are  to  be  attributed  ; amonp 
others,  the  verses  on  Brooke  Watson,  those  on  the  Marquis  of  Graham,  and  “The  Liars.” 

f Lord  John  Townshend,  the  only  survivor,  at  pre.sent,  of  this  confederacy  of  w.ts,  was 
the  author,  in  conjunction  with  Tickell,  of  the  admirable  Satire,  entitled  “ Jekyll,” — 
Tickell  having  contributed  only  the  lines  pn.rcHlied  from  Pope.  To  the  exquisite  humor  of 
Lord  John  we  owe  also  the  Probationary  Ode  for  Major  Seott,  and  the  playful  parody  on 
“ Dontc  grains  eram  tibi.” 


272 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THF: 


hend,  Richardson,  George  Ellis,  and  Dr.  Lawrence.*  There 
were  also  a few  minor  contributions  from  the  pens  of  Bate  Dud- 
ley, Mr.  O’Beirne  (afterwards  Bishop  of  Meath),  and  Sheridan’s 
friend.  Read.  In  two  of  the  writers,  Mr.  Ellis  and  Dr.  Law- 
rence, we  have  a proof  of  the  changeful  nature  of  those  atoms, 
whose  concourse  for  the  time  constitutes  Party,  and  of  the  vola- 
tilit}  with  which,  like  the  motes  in  the  sunbeam,  described  by 
Lucretius,  they  can 

Commutare  viam,  retroque  repulsa  reverti 
Nunc  hucynunc  illuc^  in  cunctas  denique  partes.^^ 

Change  their  light  course,  as  fickle  chance  may  guide, 

Now  here,  now  there,  and  shoot  from  side  to  side. 

Dr.  Lawrence  was  afterwards  a violent  supporter  of  Mr.  Pitt, 
and  Mr.  Ellisf  showed  the  versatility  of  his  wit,  as  well  as  of  his 
politics,  by  becoming  one  of  the  most  brilliant  contributors  to 
The  Antijacobin. 

The  Rolliad  and  The  Antijacobin  may,  on  their  respective  sides 
of  the  question,  be  considered  as  models  of  that  style  of  political 
satire,J  whose  lightness  and  vivacity  give  it  the  appearance  of 

♦ By  Doctor  Lawrence  the  somewhat  ponderous  irony  of  the  prosaic  department  was 
chiefly  managed.  In  allusion  to  the  personal  appearance  of  this  eminent  civilian,  one  of 
the  wits  of  the  day  thus  parodied  a passage  of  Virgil : 

“ Quo  tdrior  alter 

Non  fuit,  excepto  Laurentis  corpore  Tumi.” 

f It  is  related  that,  on  one  occasion,  when  Mr.  Ellis  was  dining  with  Mr.  Pitt,  and  em- 
barrassed naturally  by  the  recollection  of  what  he  had  been  guilty  of  towards  his  host  in 
The  Rolliad,  some  of  his  brother-wits,  to  amuse  themselves  at  his  expense,  endeavored  to 
lead  the  conversation  to  the  subject  of  this  work,  by  asking  him  various  questions,  as  to 
its  authors,  &c.,— which  Mr.  Pitt  overhearing,  from  the  upper  end  of  the  table,  leaned 
kindly  towards  Ellis  and  said, 

“ Immo  age^  et  a prima,  die,  hospes,  oiHgme  nobis.”  • 

The  word  “ Jwspes,”  applied  to  the  new  convert,  was  happy,  and  the  erroresque  tuos,” 
that  follows,  was,  perhaps,  left  to  be  implied. 

X The  following  just  observations  upon  The  Rolliad  and  Probationary  Odes  occur  m the 
manuscript  Life  of  Sheridan  which  I have  already  cited  : — “They  are,  in  most  instances, 
specimens  of  the  powers  of  men,  who,  giving  themselves  up  to  ease  and  pleasure,  neither 
improved  their  minds  with  great  industry,  nor  exerted  them  with  mucli  activity  ; and  have 
therefore  left  no  very  considerable  nor  durable  memorials  ot  the  happy  and  vigorous  abil- 
ities with  which  nature  had  certainly  endowed  them.  The  effusions  themselves  are  full  of 


ntanf  hon.  juchakd  brinsley  sheridan. 


27S 


proceeding  rather  from  the  wantonness  of  wit  than  of  ilhnature, 
and  whose  very  malice,  from  the  fancy  with  which  it  is  mixed  up, 
like  certain  kinds  of  fireworks,  explodes  in  sparkles.  They, 
however,  who  are  most  inclined  to  forgive,  in  consideration  of  its 
polish  and  playfulness,  the  personality  in  which  the  writers  of 
both  these  works  indulged^  will  also  readily  admit  that  by  no 
less  shining  powers  can  a license  so  questionable  be  either  as- 
sumed or  palliated,  and  that  nothing  but  the  lively  effervescence 
of  the  draught  can  make  us  forget  the  bitterness  infused  into  it. 
At  no  time  was  this  truth  ever  more  strikingly  exemplified  than 
at  present,  when  a separation  seems  to  have  taken  place  between 
satire  and  wit,  which  leaves  the  former  like  the  toad,  without  the 
“jewel  in  its  head;”  and  when  the  hands,  into  which  the  weapon 
of  personality  has  chiefly  fallen,  have  brought  upon  it  a stain  and 
disrepute,  that  will  long  keep  such  writers  as  those  of  the  Rolliad 
and  Antijacobin  from  touching  it  again. 

Among  other  important  questions,  that  occupied  the  attention 
of  Mr.  Sheridan  at  this  period,  was  the  measure  brought  forward 
under  the  title  of  “ Irish  Commercial  Propositions  ” for  the  pur- 
pose of  regulating  and  finally  adjusting  the  commercial  inter- 
course between  England  and  Ireland.  The  line  taken  by  him 
and  Mr.  Fox  in  their  opposition  to  this  plan  was  such  as  to  ac- 
cord, at  once  with  the  prejudices  of  the  English  manufacturers 
and  the  feelings  of  the  Irish  patriots, — the  former  regarding  the 
measure  as  fatal  to  their  interests,  and  the  latter  rejecting  with 

fortunate  allusions,  ludicrous  terms,  artful  panegyric,  and  well-aimed  satire.  The  verses 
are  at  times  far  superior  to  the  occasion,  and  the  whole  is  distinguished  by  a taste,  both 
in  language  and  matter,  perfectly  pure  and  classical  ; but  they  are  mere  occasional  pro- 
ductions. They  will  sleep  with  the  papers  of  the  Craftsman,  so  vaunted  in  their  own 
time,  but  which  are  never  now  raked  up,  except  by  the  curiosity  of  the  historian  and  the 
man  of  literature. 

“ Wit,  being  generally  founded  upon  the  manners  and  characters  of  its  own  day,  is 
crowned  in  that  day,  beyond  all  other  exertions  of  the  mind,  with  splendid  and  imme- 
diate success.  But  there  is  always  something  that  equalizes.  In  return,  more  than  any 
other  production,  it  sulfers  suddenly  an,d  irretrievably  from  the  hand  of  Time.  It  receives 
a character  the  most  opposite  to  its  own.  From  being  the  most  generally  understood  and 
perceived,  it  becom.es  of  all  writing  the  most  difficult  and  the  most  obscure.  Satires, 
whose  meaning  was  open  to  the  multitude,  defy  the  erudition  of  the  scholar,  and  comedies, 
of  which  every  line  was  felt  as  soon  as  it  was  spoken,  require  the  labor  of  an  antiquary 
to  explain  them.’ 


VOL.  I. 


12* 


274 


MEjklOiRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


indignation  the  boon  which  it  offered,  as  coupled  with  a condition 
for  the  surrender  of  the  legislative  independence  of  their  country. 

In  correct  views  of  political  economy,  the  advantage  through- 
out this  discussion  was  wholly  on  the  side  of  the  minister ; and, 
in  a speech  of  Mr.  Jenkinson,  we  find  (advanced,  indeed,  but 
incidentally,  and  treated  by  Mr.  Fox  as  no  more  than  amusing 
theories,)  some  of  those  liberal  principles  of  trade  w^hich  have 
since  been  more  fully  developed,  and  by  which  the  views  of  all 
practical  statesmen  are,  at  the  present  day,  directed.  The  little 
interest  attached  by  Mr.  Fox  to  the  science  of  Political  Economy 
— so  remarkably  proved  by  the  fact  of  his  never  having  read  the 
work  of  Adam  Smith  on  the  subject — is,  in  some  degree,  ac- 
counted for  by  the  skepticism  of  the  following  passage,  which 
occurs  in  one  of  his  animated  speeches  on  this  very  question. 
Mr.  Pitt  having  asserted,  in  answer  to  those  who  feared  the 
competition  of  Ireland  in  the  market  from  her  low  prices  of 
labor,  that  “great  capital  would  in  all  cases  overbalance  cheap- 
ness of  labor,”  Mr.  Fox  questions  the  abstract  truth  of  this 
position,  and  adds, — “ General  positions  of  all  kinds  ought  to  be* 
very  cautiously  admitted ; indeed,  on  subjects  so  infinitely  com- 
plex and  mutable  as  politics  and  commerce,  a wise  man  hesitates 
at  giving  too  implicit  a credit  to  any  general  maxim  of  any  de- 
nomination.” 

If  the  surrender  of  any  part  of  her  legislative  power  could 
have  been  expected  from  Ireland  in  that  proud  moment,  when  her 
new-born  Independence  was  but  just  beginning  to  smile  in  her  lap, 
the  acceptance  of  the  terms  then  proffered  by  the  Minister, 
might  have  averted  much  of  the  evils,  of  which  she  was  after- 
wards the  victim.  The  proposed  plan  being,  in  itself,  (as  Mr. 
Grattan  called  it,)  “ an  incipient  and  creeping  Union,”  would 
liave  prepared  the  way  less  violently  for  the  completion  of  that 
fated  measure,  and  spared  at  least  the  corruption  and  the  blood 
which  were  the  preliminaries  of  its  perpetration  at  last.  But  the 
pride,  so  natural  and  honorable  to  the  Irish — had  fate  but  placed 
them  in  a situation  to  assert  it  with  any  permanent  effect — re- 
pelled the  idea  of  being  bound  even  by  the  commercial  regu 


RIGHT  HOlSr^  RICHARD  BRINSLRY  SHERIDAN.  275 


lations  of  England.  The  wonderful  eloquence  of  Grattan,  which, 
like  an  eagle  guarding  her  young,  rose  grandly  in  defence  of  the 
freedom  to  which  itself  had  given  birth,  would  alone  have  been 
sufficient  to  determine  a whole  nation  to  his  will.  Accordingly 
such  demonstrations  of  resistance  were  made  both  by  people 
and  parliament,  that  the  Commercial  Propositions  were  given 
up  by  the  minister,  and  this  apparition  of  a Union  withdrawn 
from  the  eyes  of  Ireland  for  the  present — merely  to  come  again, 
in  another  shape,  with  many  a ‘‘  mortal  murder  on  its  crown, 
and  push  her  from  her  stool.” 

As  Mr.  Sheridan  took  a strong  interest  in  this  question,  and 
spoke  at  some  length  on  every  occasion  when  it  was  brought  be- 
fore the  House,  I will,  in  order  to  enable  the  reader  to  judge  of 
his  manner  of  treating  it,  give  a few  passages  from  his  speech 
on  the  discussion  of  that  Kesolution,  which  stipulated  for  Eng- 
land a control  over  the  external  legislation  of  Ireland  : — 

“Upon  this  view,  it  would  be  an  imposition  on  common  sense  to  pretend 
that  Ireland  could  in  future  have  the  exercise  of  free  will  or  discretion 
upon  any  of  those  subjects  of  legislation,  on  which  she  now  stipulated  to 
follow  the  edicts  of  Great  Britain  ; and  it  was  a miserable  sophistry  to  con- 
tend, that  her  being  permitted  the  ceremony  of  placing  those  laws  upon 
her  own  Statute-Book,  as  a form  of  promulgating  them,  was  an  argument 
that  it  was  not  the  British  but  the  Irish  statutes  that  bound  the  people  of 
Ireland.  For  his  part,  if  he  were  a member  of  the  Irish  Parliament,  he 
should  prefer  the  measure  of  enacting  by  one  decisive  vote,  that  all  British 
laws  to  the  purposes  stipulated,  should  have  immediate  operation  in  Ire- 
land as  in  Great  Britain  ; choosing  rather  to  avoid  the  mockery  of  enacting 
without  deliberation,  and  deciding  where  they  had  no  power  to  dissent. 
Where  fetters  were  to  be  worn,  it  was  a wretched  ambition  to  contend  for 
the  distinction  of  fastening  our  own  shackles.’^ 

* * * ♦ * 

All  had  been  delusion,  trick,  and  fallacy  : a new  scheme  of  commercial 
arrangement  is  proposed  to  the  Irish  as  a boon  ; and  the  surrender  of  their 
Constitution  is  tacked  to  it  as  a mercantile  regulation.  Ireland,  newly  es- 
caped from  harsh  trammels  and  severe  discipline,  is  treated  like  a high- 
mettled  horse,  hard  to  catch  ; and  the  Irish  Secretary  is  to  return  to  the 
field,  soothing  and  coaxing  him,  with  a sieve  of  provender  in  one  hand, 
but  with  a bridle  in  the  other,  ready  to  slip  over  his  head  while  he  is  snuf- 
fling at  the  food.  But  this  political  jockeyship,  he  was  convinced,  would 
not  succeed.’* 


276 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


In  defending  the  policy,  as  well  as  generosity  of  the  conces- 
sions made  to  Ireland  by  Mr.  Fox  in  1782,  he  says,-^ 

Fortunately  for  the  peace  and  future  union  of  the  two  kingdoms,  no 
such  miserable  and  narrow  policy  entered  into  the  mind  of  his  Right  Hon- 
orable friend ; he  disdained  the  injustice  of  bargaining  with  Ireland  on 
such  a subject ; nor  would  Ireland  have  listened  to  him  if  he  had  attempt- 
ed it.  She  had  not  applied  to  purchase  a Constitution  ; and  if  a tribute  or 
contribution  had  been  demanded  in  return  for  wbat  w^as  then  granted,  those 
patriotic  spirits  who  were  at  that  time  leading  the  oppressed  people  of  that 
insulted  country  to  the  attainment  of  their  just  rights,  would  have  pointed 
to  other  modes  of  acquiring  them  ; would  have  called  to  them  in  the 
words  of  Camillus,  anna  aptare  atque  ferro  non  auro  patriam  et  libertaiem 
Temper  areP 

The  following  passage  is  a curious  proof  of  the  short-sighted 
views  which  prevailed  at  that  period,  even  among  the  shrewdest 
men,  on  the  subject  of  trade: — 

“ There  was  one  point,  however,  in  which  he  most  completely  agreed 
with  the  manufacturers  of  this  country ; namely,  in  their  assertion,  that  if 
the  Irish  trader  should  be  enabled  to  meet  the  British  merchant  and  manu- 
facturer in  the  British  market,  the  gain  of  Ireland  must  be  the  loss  of  Eng- 
land.* This  was  a fact  not  to  be  controverted  on  any  principle  of  common 
sense  or  reasonable  argument.  The  pomp  of  general  declamation  and 
waste  of  fine  words,  wdiich  had  on  so  many  occasions  been  employed  to  dis- 
guise and  perplex  this  plain  simple  truth,  or  still  more  fallaciously  to  en- 
deavor to  prove  that  Great  Britain  wmuld  hnd  her  balance  in  the  Irish  mar- 
ket, had  only  tended  to  show  the  weakness  and  inconsistency  of  the  doc- 
trine they  were  meant  to  support.  The  truth  of  the  argument  was  with 
the  manufacturers  ; and  this  formed,  in  Mr.  Sheridan’s  mind,  a ground  ol 
one  of  the  most  vehement  objections  he  had  to  the  present  plan.” 

It  was  upon  the  clamor,  raised  at  this  time  by  the  English 
manufacturers,  at  the  prospect  of  the  privileges  about  to  be 
granted  to  the  trade  of  Ireland,  that  Tickell,  whose  wit  was  al- 
ways on  the  watch  for  such  opportunities,  wrote  the  following 
fragment,  found  among  the  papers  of  Mr.  Sheridan  ; — 

A Vision. 

“ After  supping  on  a few'  Colchester  oysters  and  a small  Welsh  rabbit,  I 

* Mr.  Fox  also  said,  “ Ireland  cannot  make  a single  acquisition  but  to  the  proportionate 
JOSS  of  England 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  277 


went  to  bed  last  Tn  3sday  night  at  a quarter  before  eleven  o’clock.  I slept 
quietly  for  near  two  hours,  at  the  expiration  of  w’hich  period,  my  slumber 
was  indeed  greatly  disturbed  by  the  oddest  train  of  images  I ever  experi- 
enced. I thought  that  every  individual  article  of  my  usual  dress  and  fur- 
niture was  suddenly  gifted  with  the  powers  of  speech,  and  all  at  once 
united  to  assail  me  with  clamorous  reproaches,  for  my  unpardonable  ne- 
glect of  their  common  interests,  in  the  great  question  of  surrendering  our 
British  commerce  to  Ireland.  My  hat,  my  coat,  and  every  button  on  it, 
my  Manchester  waistcoat,  my  silk  breeches,  my  Birmingham  buckles,  my 
shirt-buttons,  my  shoes,  my  stockings,  my  garters,  and  what  was  more 
troublesome,  my  night-cap,  all  joined  in  a dissonant  volley  of  petitions  and 
remonstrances — which,  as . I found  it  impossible  to  wholly  suppress,  I 
thought  it  most  prudent  to  moderate,  by  soliciting  them  to  communicate 
their  ideas  individually.  It  was  with  some  difficulty  they  consented  to  even 
this  proposal,  which  they  considered  as  a device  to  extinguish  their  gene- 
ral ardor,  and  to  break  the  force  of  their  united  efforts  ; nor  would  they 
by  any  means  accede  to  it,  till  I had  repeatedly  assured  them,  that  as  soon 
as  I heard  them  separately,  I 'would  appoint  an  early  hour  for  receiving 
them  in  a joint  body.  Accordingly,  having  fixed  these  preliminaries,  my 
Night-cap  thought  proper  to  slip  up  immediately  over  my  ears,  and  disen- 
gaging itself  from  my  temples,  called  upon  my  Waistcoat,  who  was  rather 
carelessly  reclining  on  a chair,  to  attend  him  immediately  at  the  foot  of  the 
bed.  My  Sheets  and  Pillovz-cases,  being  all  of  Irish  extraction,  stuck  close 
to  me,  however, — which  was  uncommonly  fortunate,  for,  not  only  my  Cur- 
tains had  drawn  off  to  the  foot  of  the  bed,  but  my  Blankets  also  had  the 
audacity  to  associate  themselves  with  others  of  the  woollen  fraternity,  at 
the  first  outset  of  this  household  meeting.  Both  my  Towels  attended  as 
evidences  at  the  bar, — but  my  Pocket-handkerchief,  notwithstanding  his 
uncommon  forwardness  to  hold  forth  the  banner  of  sedition,  was  thought  to 
be  a character  of  so  mixed  a complexion,  as  rendered  it  more  decent  for 
him  to  reserve  his  interference  till  my  Snuff-box  could  be  heard — which  was 
settled  ^cordingly. 

“ At  length,  to  my  inconceivable  astonishment,  my  Night-cap,  attended 
as  I have  mentioned,  addressed  me  in  the  following  terms  : — ” 

* * ^ * * * * * 

Early  as  was  the  age  at  which  Sheridan  had  been  transplanted 
from  Ireland — never  to  set  foot  upon  his  native  land  again — the 
feeling  of  nationality  remained  with  him  warmly  through  life, 
and  he  was,  to  the  last,  both  fond  and  proud  of  his  country. 
The  zeal,  with  which  he  entered,  at  this  period,  into  Irish  politics, 
may  be  judged  of  from  some  letters,  addressed  to  him  in  the 


278 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


year  1785,  by  Mr.  Isaac  Corry,  who  was  at  that  time  a member 
of  the  Irish  Opposition,  and  combated  the  Commercial  Proposi- 
tions as  vigorously  as  he  afterwards,  when  Chancellor  of  the  Ex- 
chequer, defended  their  “ consummate  flower,”  the  Union.  A 
few  extracts  from  these  letters  will  give  some  idea  of  the  inter- 
est attached  to  this  question  by  the  popular  party  in  both  coun- 
tries. 

The  following,  dated  August  5,  1785,  was  written  during^  the 
adjournment  of  ten  days,  that  preceded  Mr.  Orde’s  introduction 
of  the  Propositions : — 

“ Your  most  welcome  letter,  after  hunting  me  some  days 
through  the  country,  has  at  length  reached  me.  I wish  you  had 
sent  some  notes  of  your  most  excellent  speech ; but  such  as  we 
have  must  be  given  to  the  public — admirable  commentary  upon 
Mr.  Pitt’s  Apology  to  the  People  of  Ireland^  w'hich  must  also  be 
published  in  the  manner  fitting  it.  The  addresses  were  sent 
round  to  all  the  towns  in  the  kingdom,  in  order  to  give  currency 
to  the  humbug.  Being  upon  the  spot,  I have  my  troops  in  per.r 
feet  order,  and  am  ready  at  a moment’s  warning  for  any  manoeu- 
vre which  may,  when  we  meet  in  Dublin  previous  to  the  next 
sitting,  be  thought  necessary  to  follow  the  petitions  for  post- 
poning. 

“We  hear  astonishing  accounts  of  your  greatness  in  particu- 
lar. Paddy  will,  I suppose,  some  beau  jour  be  voting  you  ano- 
ther 50,000,*  if  you  go  on  as  you  have  done. 

“I  send  to-day  down  to  my  friend,  O’Neil,  who  waits  for  a 
signal  only,  and  we  shall  go  up  together.  Brownlow  is  just  be- 
side me,  and  I shall  ride  over  this  morning  to  get  him  up  to  con 

sultation  in  town we  must  get  our  Whig  friends  in 

England  to  engraft  a few  slips  of  Whiggism  here — till  that  is 
done,  there  will  be  neither  Constitution  for  the  people  nor  sta- 
bility for  the  Government. 

“ Charlemont  and  I were  of  opinion  that  we  should  not  make 
the  volunteers  speak  upon  the  present  business  ; so  I left  it  out 


♦ Alluding  to  the  recent  vote  of  that  sum  to  Mr.  Grattan. 


RIGHT  HOlSr.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  279 

in  the  Eesolutions  at  our  late  review.  They  are  as  tractable  as 
we  could  desire,  and  we  can  manage  them  completely.  We  in- 
culcate all  moderation — were  we  to  slacken  in  that,  they  would 
instantly  step  forward.” 

The  date  of  the  following  letter  is  August  10th — two  days  be- 
fore Mr.  Orde  brought  forward  the  Propositions. 

“We  have  got  the  bill  entire,  sent  about  by  Orde.  The 
more  it  is  read,  the  less  it  is  liked.  I made  notable  use  of  the 
clause  you  sent  me  before  the  whole  arrived.  We  had  a select 
meeting  to-day  of  the  D.  of  Leinster,  Charlemont,  Conolly, 
Grattan,  Forbes,  and  myself  We  think  of  moving  an  address 
to  postpone  to-morrow  till  the  15th  of  January,  and  have  also 
some  resolutions  ready  'pro  re  nata^  as  we  don’t  yet  know  what 
shape  they  will  put  the  business  into  ; — Conolly  to  move.  To- 
morrow morning  we  settle  the  Address  and  Resolutions,  and 
after  that,  to-morrow,  meet  more  at  large  at  Leinster  House. 
All  our  troops  muster  pretty  well.  Mountmorris  is  here,  and  to 
be  with  us  to-morrow  morning.  We  reckon  on  something  like 
a hundred,  and  some  are  sanguine  enough  to  add  near  a score 
above  it — that  is  too  much.  The  report  of  to-night  is  that  Orde 
is  not  yet  ready  for  us,  and  will  beg  a respite  of  a few  days — 
Beresford  is  not  yet  arrived,  and  that  is  said  to  be  the  cause. 
Mornington  and  Poole  are  come — their  muster  is  as  strict  as 
ours.  If  we  divide  any  thing  like  a hundred,  they  will  not  dare 
to  take  a victory  over  us.  Adieu,  yours  most  truly, 

“ I.  C.” 

The  motion  for  bringing  in  the  Bill  was  carried  only  by  a ma- 
jority of  nineteen,  which  is  thus  announced  to  Mr.  Sheridan  by 
his  correspondent : — 

“ I congratulate  with  you  on  108  minority — against  127.  The 
business  never  can  go  on.  Tliey  were  astonished,  and  looked 
the  sorriest  devils  you  can  imagine.  Orde’s  exhibition  was  piti- 
ful indeed — the  support  of  his  party  weak  and  open  to  attack — 
the  debate  on  their  part  really  poor.  On  ours,  Conolly,  O’Neill 


280 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


and  the  other  country  gentlemen,  strong  and  of  great  weight — > 
Grattan  able  and  eloquent  m an  uncommon  degree — -every  body 
in  high  spirits,  and  altogether  a force  that  was  irresistible.  We 
divided  at  nine  this  morning,  on  leave  to  bring  in  a Bill  for  the 
settlement.  The  ground  fought  upon  was  the  Fourth  Resolution, 
and  the  principle  of  that  in  the  others.  The  commercial  detail 
did  not  belong  accurately  to  the  debate,  though  some  went  over 
it  in  a cursory  way.  Grattan,  two  hours  and  a half — FJood  as 
much — the  former  brilliant,  well  attended  to,  and  much  admired 
— the  latter  tedious  from  detail ; of  course,  not  so  well  heard, 
and  answered  by  Foster  in  detail,  to  refutation. 

“ The  Attorney  General  defended  the  constitutional  safety 
under  the  Fourth-Resolution  principle.  Orde  mentioned  the 
Opposition  in  England  twice  in  his  opening  speech,  with  impu- 
tations, or  insinuations  at  least,  not  very  favorable.  You  were 
not  left  undefended.  Forbes  exerted  his  warm  attachment  to 
you  with  great  effect — Burgh,  the  flag-ship  of  the  Leinster  squad- 
ron, gave  a well-supported  fire  pointed  against  Pitt,  and  covering 
you.  Hardy  (the  Bishop  of  Down’s  friend)  in  a very  elegant 
speech  gave  you  due  honor ; and  I had  the  satisfaction  of  a slight 
skirmish,  which  called  up  the  Attorney  General,  &c.  . . .” 

On  the  15th  of  August  Mr.  Orde  withdrew  his  Bill,  and  Mr. 
Corry  writes — “ I wish  you  joy  a thousand  times  of  our  complete 
victory.  Orde  has  offered  the  Bill — moved  its  being  printed  for 
his  own  justification  to  the  country,  and  no  more  of  it  this  ses- 
sion. We  have  the  effects  of  a complete  victory.” 

Another  question  of  much  less  importance,  but  more  calcu- 
lated to  call  forth  Sheridan’s  various  powers,  was  the  Plan  of  the 
Duke  of  Richmond  for  the  fortification  of  dock-yards,  which  Mr. 
Pitt  brought  forward  (it  was  said,  with  much  reluctance)  in  the 
session  of  1786,  and  which  Sheridan  must  have  felt  the  greater 
pleasure  in  attacking,  from  the  renegade  conduct  of  its  noble  au- 
thor in  politics.  In  speaking  of  the  Report  of  a Board  of  Gene- 
ral Officers,  which  had  been  appointed  to  examine  into  the  merits 
of  this  plan,  and  of  which  the  Duke  himself  was  President,  he 
thus  ingeniously  plays  with  the  terms  of  the  art  in  question,  and 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  281 


fires  off  his  wit,  as  it  were,  en  ricochet^  making  it  bound  lightly 
from  sentence  to  sentence  : — 

“ Yet  the  Noble  Duke  deserved  the  warmest  panegyrics  for  the  striking 
proofs  he  had  given  of  his  genius  as  an  engineer ; which  appeared  even  in 
the  planning  and  construction  of  the  paper  in  his  hand  ! The  professional 
ability  of  the  Master-general  shone  as  conspicuously  there,  as  it  could 
upon  our  coasts.  He  had  made  it  an  argument  of  posts  ; and  conducted 
his  reasoning  upon  principles  of  trigonometry,  as  well  as  logic.  There 
were  certain  detached  data,  like  advanced  works,  to  keep  the  enemy  at  a 
distance  from  the  main  object  in  debate.  Strong  provisions  covered  the 
flanks  of  his  assertions.  His  very  queries  were  in  casements.  No  impres- 
sion, therefore,  w’as  to  be  made  on  this  fortress  of  sophistry  by  desultory 
observations  ; and  it  was  necessary  to  sit  down  before  it,  and  assail  it  by 
regular  approaches.  It  was  fortunate,  however,  to  observe,  that  notwith- 
standing all  the  skill  employed  by  the  noble  and  literary  engineer,  his 
mode  of  defence  on  paper  was  open  to  the  same  objection  which  had  been 
urged  against  his  other  fortifications  ; that  if  his  adversary  got  possession 
of  one  of  his  posts,  it  became  strength  against  him,  and  the  means  of  sub- 
duing the  whole  line  of  his  argument.” 

He  also  spoke  at  considerable  length,  upon  the  Plan  brought 
forward  by  Mr.  Pitt  for  the  Redemption  of  the  Natfonal  Debt 
— that  grand  object  of  the  calculator  and  the  financier,  and 
equally  likely,  it  should  seem,  to  be  attained  by  the  dreams  of 
the  one  as  by  the  experiments  of  the  other.  Mr.  Pitt  himself 
seemed  to  dread  the  suspicion  of  such  a partnership,  by  the  care 
with  which  he  avoided  any  acknowledgment  to  Dr.  Price,  whom 
he  had  nevertheless  personally  consulted  on  the  subject,  and 
upon  whose  visions  of  compound  interest  this  fabric  of  finance 
was  founded. 

In  opening  the  Plan  of  his  new  Sinking  Fund  to  the  House, 
Mr.  Pitt,  it  is  well  known,  pronounced  it  to  be  “ a firm  cclumn, 
upon  which  he  was  proud  to  flatter  himself  his  name  might  be 
inscribed.”  Tycho  Brahe  would  have  said  the  same  of  his  As- 
tronomy, and  Des  Cartes  of  his  Physics but  these  baseless 
columns  have  long  passed  away,  and  the  Plan  of  paying  debt 
with  borrowed  money  well  deserves  to  follow  them.  The  delu- 
sion, indeed,  of  which  this  Fund  was  made  the  instrument,  dur 
ing  the  war  with  France,  is  now  pretty  generally  acknowledged; 


282 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


and  the  only  question  is,  whether  Mr.  Pitt  was  so  much  the  dupe 
of  his  own  juggle,  as  to  persuade  himself  that  thus  playing  with 
a debt,  from  one  hand  to  the  other,  was  paying  it — or  whether, 
aware  of  the  inefFicacy  of  his  Plan  for  any  other  purpose  than 
that  of  keeping  up  a blind  confidence  in  the  money-market,  he 
yet  gravely  went  on,  as  a sort  of  High  Priest  of  Finance,  profit- 
ing  by  a miracle  in  which  he  did  not  himself  believe,  and,  in 
addition  to  the  responsibility  of  the  uses  to  which  he  applied 
the  money,  incurring  that  of  the  fiscal  imposture  by  which  he 
raised  it. 

Though,  from  the  prosperous  state  of  the  revenue  at  the  time 
of  the  institution  of  this  Fund,  the  absurdity  was  not  yet  com- 
mitted of  borrowing  money  to  maintain  it,  we  may  perceive  by 
the  following  acute  pleasantry  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  (who  denied  the 
existence  of  the  alleged  surplus  of  income,)  that  he  already  had 
a keen  insight  into  the  fallacy  of  that  Plan  of  Kedemption  after- 
wards followed  : — “ At  present,”  he  said,  “ it  was  clear  there 
was  no  surplus  ; and  the  only  means  which  suggested  themselves 
to  him  were,  a loan  of  a million  for  the  especial  purpose — for 
the  Right  Honorable  gentleman  might  say,  with  the  person  in 
the  comedy,  ‘ If  you  won't  lend  me  the  money,  how  can  I pa.y 
you?'^^ 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  288 


CHAPTER  X. 

CHARGES  AGAINST  MR.  HASTINGS. — COM^iIERCIAL  TREATY 
WITH  FRANCE. — DEBTS  OF  THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES. 

The  calm  security  into  which  Mr.  Pitt’s  administration  had 
settled,  after  the  victory  which  the  Tory  alliance  of  King  and 
people  had  gained  for  him,  left  hut  little  to  excite  the  activity  of 
party  spirit,  or  to  call  forth  those  grand  explosions  of  eloquence, 
which  a more  electric  state  of  the  political  world  produces. 
The  orators  of  Opposition  might  soon  have  been  reduced,  like 
Philoctetes  wasting  his  arrows  upon  geese  at  Lemnos,^  to  ex- 
pend the  armory  of  their  wit  upon  the  Grahams  and  Rolles  of 
the  Treasury  bench.  But  a subject  now  presented  itself — the 
Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings — which,  by  embodying  the 
cause  of  a whole  country  in  one  individual,  and  thus  combining 
the  extent  and  grandeur  of  a national  question,  with  the  direct 
aim  and  singleness  of  a personal  attack,  opened  as  wide  a field 
for  display  as  the  most  versatile  talents  could  require,  and  to 
Mr.  Sheridan,  in  particular,  afforded  one  of  those  precious  op- 
portunities, of  which,  if  Fortune  but  rarely  offers  them  to  genius, 
it  is  genius  alone  that  can  fully  and  triumphantly  avail  itself. 

The  history  of  the  rise  and  progress  of  British  power  in  India 
— of  that  strange  and  rapid  vicissitude,  by  which  the  ancient 
Empire  of  the  Moguls  was  transferred  into  the  hands  of  a Com- 
pany of  Merchants  in  Leadenhall  Street — furnishes  matter  per- 
haps more  than  any  other  that  could  be  mentioned,  for  those 
strong  contrasts  and  startling  associations,  to  which  eloquence 
and  wit  often  owe  their  most  striking  effects.  The  descendants 
of  a Throne,  once  the  loftiest  in  the  world,  reduced  to  stipulate 

* “ Pirmigero,  non  armigeroin  corporc  tela  exei'ceantur.” — Accius^  ap.  Ciceron.  lib.  vii 


284 


MEMOIRS  OF^THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


with  the  servants  of  traders  for  subsistence — the  dethronement 
of  Princes  converted  into  a commercial  transaction,  and  a ledger- 
account  kept  of  the  profits  of  Eevofutions — the  sanctity  of  Ze- 
nanas violated  by  search-warrants,  and  the  chicaneries  of  Eng- 
lish Law  transplanted,  in  their  most  mischievous  luxuriance,  into 
the  holy  and  peaceful  shades  of  the  Bramins, — such  events  as 
these,  in  which  the  poetry  and  the  prose  of  life,  its  pompous  il- 
lusions and  mean  realities,  are  mingled  up  so  sadly  and  fantasti- 
cally together,  were  of  a nature,  particularly  when  recent,  to 
lay  hold  of  the  imagination  as  well  as  the  feelings,  and  to  fur- 
nish eloquence  with  those  strong  lights  and  shadows,  of  which 
her  most  animated  pictures  are  composed. 

It  is  not  wonderful,  therefore,  that  the  warm  fancy  of  Mr. 
Burke  should  have  been  early  and  strongly  excited  by  the  scenes 
of  which  India  was  the  theatre,  or  that  they  should  have  (to  use 
his  own  words)  ‘‘  constantly  preyed  upon  his  peace,  and  by  night 
and  day  dwelt  on  his  imaginaticjn.”  His  imagination,  indeed, — 
as  will  naturally  happen,  where  this  faculty  is  restrained  by  a 
sense  of  truth — was  always  most  livelily  called  into  play  by 
events  of  which  he  had  not  himself  been  a witness  ; and,  accord- 
ingly, the  sufferings  of  India  and  the  horrors  of  revolutionary 
France  were  the  two  subjects  upon  which  it  has  most  unrestrain- 
edly indulged  itself.  In  the  year  1780  he  had  been  a member 
of  the  Select  Committee,  which  was  appointed  by  the  House  of 
Commons  to  take  the  affairs  of  India  into  consideration,  and 
through  some  of  whose  luminous  Reports  we  trace  that  power- 
ful intellect,  which  “ stamped  an  image  of  itself”  on  every  sub- 
ject that  it  embraced.  Though  the  reign  of  Clive  had  been  suffi- 
ciently fertile  in  enormities,  and  the  treachery  practised  towards 
Omichimd  seemed  hardly  to  admit  of  any  parallel,  yet  the  lof- 
tier and  more  prominent  iniquities  of  Mr.  Hastings’s  govern- 
ment were  supposed  to  have  thrown  even  these  into  shadow. 
Against  him,  therefore, — now  rendered  a still  nobler  object  of 
attack  by  the  haughty  spirit  with  which  he  delied  his  accusei’s, 
— the  whole  studies  and  energies  of'  Mr.  Burke’s  mind  were 
directed. 


HIGHT  HON,  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  285 


It  has  already  been  remarked  that  to  the  impetuous  zeal,  with 
wdiich  Burke  at  this  period  rushed  into  Indian  politics,  and  to 
that  ascendancy  over  his  party  by  which  he  so  often  compelled 
them  to  “ swell  with  their  tributary  urns  his  flood,”  the  ill-fated 
East  India  Bill  of  Mr.  Fox  in  a considerable  degree  owed  its 
origin.  In  truth,  the  disposition  and  talents  of  this  extraordinary 
man  made  him  at  least  as  dangerous  as  useful  to  any  party  with 
"which  he  connected  himself  Liable  as  he  was  to  be  hurried 
into  unsafe  extremes,  impatient  of  contradiction,  and  with  a sort 
of  feudal  turn  of  mind,  which  exacted  the  unconditional  service 
of  his  followers,  it  required,  even  at  that  time,  but  little  pene- 
tration to  foresee  the  violent  schism  that  ensued  some  years 
after,  or  to  pronounce  that,  whenever  he  should  be  unable  to 
command  his  party,  he  would  desert  it. 

The  materials  which  he  had  been  collecting  on  the  subject  of 
India,  and  the  indignation  with  which  these  details  of  delinquen- 
cy had  filled  him,  at  length  burst  forth  (like  that  mighty  cloud, 
described  by  himself  as  “ pouring  its  whole  contents  over  the 
plains  of  the  Carnatic”)  in  his  wmnderful  speech  on  the  Nabob 
of  Ar cot’s  debts’^ — a speech,  whose  only  rivals  perhaps  in  all 
the  records  of  oratory,  are  to  be  found  among  three  or  four 
others  of  his  own,  which,  like  those  poems  of  Petrarch  called 
Sorelle  from  their  kindred  excellence,  may  be  regarded  as  sisters 
in  beauty,  and  equalled  only  by  each  other. 

Though  the  charges  against  Mr.  Hastings  had  long  been 
threatened,  it  was  not  till  the  present  year  that  Mr.  Burke 
brought  them  formally  forward.  He  had  been,  indeed,  defied 
to  this  issue  by  the  friends  of  the  Governor-General,  whose 
reliance,  however,  upon  the  sympathy  and  support  of  the  minis- 
try (accorded,  as  a matter  of  course,  to  most  State  delinquents) 

* Isocrates,  in  his  Encomium  upon  Helen,  dwells  much  on  the  advantage  to  an  oraltn  of 
speaking  upon  subjects  Irom  which  but  little  eloquence  is  expected — ‘Tr'S^I  'TCOV  (^apXwv 
xai  TOtq'Slvwv.  Tiiere  is  little  doubt,  indeed,  that  surprise  must  have  considerable  share 
in  the  pleasure,  which  we  derive  from  eloquence  on  such  unpromising  topics  as  have  in 
spired  three  of  the  most  masterly  speeches  that  can  be  selected  from  modern  oratory — 
that  of  Burke  on  the  Nabob  of  Arcot’s  debts — of  Grattan  on  Tithes,  and  of  Mr.  Fox  on  the 
Westminster  Scrutiny. 


286 


MEMOIRS  OP  THE  LIFE  OP  THE 


was,  in  this  instance,  contrary  to  all  calculation,  disappointed. 
Mr.  Pitt,  at  the  commencement  of  the  proceedings,  had  shown 
strong  indications  of  an  intention  to  take  the  cause  of  the  Gover- 
nor-General under  his  protection.  Mr.  Dundas,  too,  had  exhi- 
bited one  of  those  convenient  changes  of  opinion,  by  which  such 
statesmen  can  accommodate  themselves  to  the  passing  hue  of  the 
Treasury -bench,  as  naturally  as  the  Eastern  insect  does  to  the 
color  of  the  leaf  on  which  it  feeds.  Though  one  of  the  earliest 
and  most  active  denouncers  of  Indian  mis-government,  and  even 
the  mover  of  those  strong  Resolutions  in  1782"^  on  which  some 
of  the  chief  charges  of  the  present  prosecution  w^ere  founded, 
he  now,  throughout  the  whole  of  the  opening  scenes  of  the  Im- 
peachment, did  not  scruple  to  stand  forth  as  the  warm  eulogist 
of  Mr.  Hastings,  and  to  endeavor  by  a display  of  the  successes 
of  his  administration  to  dazzle  away  attention  from  its  violence 
and  injustice. 

This  tone,  however,  did  not  long  continue : — in  the  midst  of 
the  anticipated  triumph  of  Mr  Hastings,  the  Minister  suddenly 
“ changed  his  hand,  and  checked  his  pride.”  On  the  occasion  of 
the  Benares  Charge,  brought  forward  in  the  House  of  Commons 
by  Mr.  Fox,  a majority  was,  for  the  first  time,  thrown  into  the 
scale  of  the  accusation  ; and  the  abuse  that  was  in  consequence 
showered  upon  Mr.  Pitt  and  Mr.  Dundas,  through  every  channel 
of  the  press,  by  the  friends  of  Mr.  Hastings,  showed  how  wholly 
unexpected,  as  v/ell  as  mortifying,  was  the  desertion. 

As  but  little  credit  w^as  allowed  to  conviction  in  this  change, 
it  being  difficult  to  believe  that  a Minister  should  come  to  the 
discussion  of  such  a question,  so  lightly  ballasted  with  opinions 
of  his  own  as  to  be  thrown  from  his  equilibrium  by  the  first 
wave  of  argument  he  encountered, — various  statements  and 
conjectures  were,  at  the  time,  brought  forward  to  account  for  it. 
Jealousy  of  the  great  and  increasing:  influence  of  Mr.  Hastings  at 

* In  introducing  the  Resolutions  he  said,  that  ‘‘  he  was  urged  to  lake  this  step  by  an  ac- 
count, which  had  lately  arrived  from  India,  of  an  act  of  the  most  flagrant  violence  and 
oppression  and  of  the  grossest  breach  of  faitli,  committed  by  Mr.  Hi^tings  against  Cheyl 
Sing,  the  Raja  of  Benares.” 


EIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  287 

court  was,  in  general,  the  motive  assigned  for  the  conduct  of  the 
Minister.  It  was  even  believed  that  a wish  expressed  by  the 
King,  to  have  his  new  favorite  appointed  President  of  the  Board 
of  Control,  was  what  decided  Mr.  Pitt  to  extinguish,  by  co- 
operating with  the  Opposition,  every  chance  of  a rivalry,  which 
might  prove  troublesome,  if  not  dangerous,  to  his  power. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  the  arraigned  ruler  of  India  was  honored 
at  this  period  with  the  distinguished  notice  of  the  Court — partly, 
perhaps,  from  admiration  of  his  proficiency  in  that  mode  of 
governing,  to  which  all  Courts  are,  more  or  less,  instinctively 
inclined,  and  partly  from  a strong  distaste  to  those  who  were 
his  accusers,  which  would  have  been  sufficient  to  recommend  any 
person  or  measure  to  which  they  were  opposed. 

But  whether  Mr.  Pitt,  in  the  part  which  he  now  took,  was 
actuated  merely  by  personal  motives,  or  (as  his  eulogists  re- 
present) by  a strong  sense  of  impartiality  and  justice,  he  must 
at  all  events  have  considered  the  whole  proceeding,  at  this  mo- 
ment, as  a most  seasonable  diversion  of  the  attacks  of  the 
Opposition,  from  his  own  person  and  government  to  an  object  so 
little  connected  with  either.  The  many  restless  and  powerful 
spirits  now  opposed  to  him  would  soon  have  found,  or  made, 
some  vent  for  their  energies,  more  likely  to  endanger  the  stabi- 
lity of  his  power; — and,  as  an  expedient  for  drawing  off  some 
of  that  perilous  lightning,  which  flashed  around  him  from  the 
lips  of  a Burke,  a Fox,  and  a Sheridan,  the  prosecution  of  a great 
criminal  like  Mr.  Hastings  furnished  as  efficient  a conductor  as 
could  be  desired. 

Still,  however,  notwithstanding  the  accession  of  the  Minister, 
and  the  imipulse  given  by  the  majorities  which  he  commanded, 
the  projected  impeachment  was  but  tardy  and  feeble  in  its  move- 
ments, and  neither  the  House  nor  the  public  went  cordially  along 
with  it.  Great  talents,  united  to  great  power — even  when,  as  in 
the  instance  of  Mr.  Hastings,  abused — is  a combination  before 
which  men  are  inclined  to  bow  implicitly.  The  iniquities,  too, 
of  Indian  rulers  were  of  that  gigantic  kind,  which  seemed  to 
outgrow  censure,  and  even,  in  some  degree,  challenge  admiration 


2cS8  Memoiks  of  the  lIfe  of  the 

In  addition  to  all  this,  Mr.  Hastings  had  been  successful ; and 
success  but  too  often  throws  a charm  round  injustice,  like  the 
dazzle  of  the  necromancer’s  shield  in  Ariosto,  before  which  every 
one  falls 

“ Con  gli  occhi  ahhacinatiy  e senza  menier 

The  feelings,  therefore,  of  the  public  were,  at  the  outset  of  the 
prosecution,  rather  for  than  against  the  supposed  delinquent.  Nor 
was  this  tendency  counteracted  by  any  very  partial  leaning  to- 
wards his  accusers.  Mr.  Fox  h^  hardly  yet  recovered  his 
defeat  on  the  India  Bill,  or — what  had  been  still  more  fatal  to 
him — his  victory  in  the  Coalition.  Mr.  Burke,  in  spite  of  his 
great  talents  and  zeal,  was  by  no  means  popular.  There  was  a 
tone  of  dictatorship  in  his  public  demeanor  against  which  men 
naturally  rebelled  ; and  the  impetuosity  and  passion  with  which 
he  flung  himself  into  every  favorite  subject,  showed  a want  of 
self-government  but  little  calculated  to  inspire  respect.  Even 
his  eloquence,  various  and  splendid  as  it  was,  failed  in  general  to 
win  or  command  the  attention  of  his  hearers,  and,  in  this  great 
essential  of  public  speaking,  must  be  considered  inferior  to  that 
ordinary,  but  practical,  kind  of  oratory,"^  which  reaps  its  harvest 
at  the  moment  of  delivery,  and  is  afterwards  remembered  less 
for  itself  than  its  effects.  There  was  a something — which  those 
who  have  but  read  him  can  with  difliculty  conceive — that  marred 
the  impression  of  his  most  sublime  and  glowing  displays.  In 
vain  did  his  genius  put  forth  its  superb  plumage,  glittering  all 
over  with  the  hundred  eyes  of  fancy — the  gait  of  the  bird  was 
heavy  and  awkward,  and  its  voice  seemed  rather  to  scare  than 
attract.  Accordingly,  many  of  those  masterly  discourses,  which, 
in  their  present  form,  may  proudly  challenge  comparison  with 
all  the  written  eloquence  upon  record,  were,  at  the  time  when 
they  were  pronounced,  either  coldly  listened  to,  or  only  wel- 
comed as  a signal  and  excuse  for  not  listening  at  all.  To  such  a 

* “ Whoever,  upon  comparison  is  deemed  by  a common  audience  the  greatest  orator 
ought  most  certainly  to  be  pronounced  such  by  men  of  science  and  erudition.” — Hume^ 
Essay  13. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  289 


length  was  this  indifference  carried,  that,  on  the  evening  when  he 
delivered  his  great  Speech  on  the  Nabob  of  Arcot's  debts,  so 
faint  was  the  impression  it  produced  upon  the  House,  that  Mr. 
Pitt  and  Lord  Grenville,  as  I have  heard,  not  only  consulted  with 
each  other  as  to  whether  it  w^as  necessary  they  should  take  the 
trouble  of  answering  it,  but  decided  in  the  negative.  Yet  doubt- 
less, at  the  present  moment,  if  Lord  Grenville — master  as  he  is 
of  all  the  knowledge  that  belongs  to  a statesman  and  a scholar — 
were  asked  to  point  out  from  the  stores  of  his  reading  the  few 
models  of  oratorical  composition,  to  the  perusal  of  which  he 
could  most  frequently,  and  with  unwearied  admiration,  return, 
this  slighted  and  unanswered  speech  would  be  among  the 
number. 

From  all  these  combining  circumstances  it  arose  that  the  pro- 
secution of  Mr.  Hastings,  even  after  the  accession  of  the  Minister, 
excited  but  a slight  and  wav  ring  interest ; and,  without  some 
extraordinary  appeal  to  the  sympathies  of  the  House  and  the 
country — some  startling  touch  to  the  chord  of  public  feeling — 
it  was  questionable  whether  the  inquiry  would  not  end  as  abor- 
tively as  all  the  other  Indian  inquests^*  that  had  preceded  it. 

In  this  state  of  the  proceeding,  Mr.  Sheridan  brought  forward, 
on  the  7th  of  February,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  the  charge 
relative  to  the  Begum  Princesses  of  Oude,  and  delivered  that 
celebrated  Speech,  whose  effect  upon  its  hearers  has  no  parallel 
in  the  annals  of  ancient  or  modern  eloquence.f  When  we  re- 

* Namely,  the  fruitless  prosecution  of  Lord  Clive  by  General  Burgoyne,  the  trifling  ver- 
dict upon  the  persons  who  had  imprisoned  Lord  Pigot,  and  the  Bill  of  Pains  and  Penalties 
against  Sir  Thomas  Rumbold,  finally  withdrawn. 

f Mr.  Burke  declared  it  to  be  “ the  most  astonishing  effort  of  eloquence,  argument,  and 
wil  united,  of  which  there  was  any  record  or  tradition.”  Mr.  Fox  said,  “ All  that  he  had 
ever  heard,  all  that  he  had  ever  read,  when  compared  with  it,  dwindled  into  nothing,  and 
vanished  like  vapor  before  the  sun  — and  Mr.  Pitt  acknowledged  “ that  it  surpassed  all 
the  eloquence  of  ancient  and  modern  times,  and  possessed  every  thing  that  genius  or  arl 
could  furnish,  to  agitate  and  control  the  human  mind.” 

There  were  several  other  tributes,  of  a less  distinguished  kind,  of  which  I find  the  fol- 
lowing account  in  the  Annual  Register  : — 

“Sir  William  Dolben  immediately  moved  an  adjournment  of  the  debate,  confessing,  that, 
in  the  state  of  mind  in  which  Mr.  Sheridan’s  speech  had  left  him,  it  was  impossible  fo*" 
h)n  to  give  a determinate  opinion.  Mr.  Stanhope  seconded  the  motion.  Wlien  1 e had  en- 
ered  the  House,  he  was  not  ashamed  to  acknowledge,  that  his  opinion  inclined  to  the  side 

VOL.  I.  13 


290 


MEMOIRS  OP  THE  LlPE  OF  THE 


collect  the  men  by  whom  the  House  of  Commons  was  at  that 
day  adorned,  and  the  conflict  of  high  passions  and  interests  in 
which  they  had  been  so  lately  engaged ; — when  we  see  them  all, 
of  all  parties,  brought  (as  Mr.  Pitt  expressed  it)  “ under  the 
wand  of  the  enchanter,”  and  only  vying  with  each  other  in  their 
description  of  the  fascination  by  which  they  were  bound  ; — w'hen 
we  call  to  mind,  too,  that  he,  whom  the  first  statesmen  of  the 
age  thus  lauded,  had  but  lately  descended  among  them  from  a 
more  aerial  region  of  intellect,  bringing  trophies  falsely  supposed 
to  be  incompatible  with  political  prowess ; — it  is  impossible  to 
imagine  a moment  of  more  entire  and  intoxicating  triumph. 
The  only  alloy  that  could  mingle  with  such  complete  success 
must  be  the  fear  that  it  was  too  perfect  ever  to  come  again  , — 
that  his  fame  had  then  reached  the  meridian  point,  and  from  that 
consummate  moment  must  date  its  decline. 

Of  this  remarkable  Speech  there  exists  no  Report ; — for  it 
would  be  absurd  to  dignify  with  that  appellation  the  meagre  and 
lifeless  sketch,  the 

Tenuem  sine  virihus  umhram 

In  faciem  jEnecSy 

which  is  given  in  the  Annual  Registers  and  Parliamentary  De- 
bates. Its  fame,  therefore,  remains  like  an  empty  shrine — a 
cenotaph  still  crowned  and  honored,  though  the  inmate  is  want^ 
ing.  Mr.  Sheridan  was  frequently  urged  to  furnish  a Report 
himself,  and  from  his  habit  of  preparing  and  writing  out  his 
speeches,  there  is  little  doubt  that  he  could  have  accomplished 
such  a task  without  much  difficulty.  But,  whether  from  indo- 
lence or  design,  he  contented  himself  with  leaving  to  imagination, 
which,  in  most  cases,  he  knew,  transcends  reality,  the  task  of 
justifying  his  eulogists,  and  perpetuating  the  tradition  of  their 

rf  Mr.  Hastings.  But  such  had  been  the  wonderful  efficacy  of  ilr.  Sheridan’s  convincing 
detail  of  facts,  and  irresistible  eloquence,  that  he  could  not  but  say  that  his  sentiments 
Were  materially  changed.  Nothing,  indeed,  but  information  almo.sl  equal  to  a miracle, 
determine  him  not  to  vote  for  the  Charge  ; but  he  had  just  feil  the  influence  of  such 
a miracle,  and  he  could  not  but  ardently  desire  tc  avoid  an  immediate  decision.  Mr.  Ma* 
thew  Montague  confessed,  that  he  had  felt  a similar  revolution  of  sentiment. 


EIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  291 


praise.  Nor,  in  doing  thus,  did  he  act  perhaps  unwisely  for  his 
fame.  We  may  now  indulge  in  dreams  of  the  eloquence  that 
could  produce  such  effects,*  as  we  do  of  the  music  of  the  an- 
cients and  the  miraculous  powers  attributed  to  it,  with  as  little 
risk  of  having  our  fancies  chilled  by  the  perusal  of  the  one,  as 
there  is  of  our  faith  being  disenchanted  by  hearing  a single  strain 
of  the  other. 

After  saying  thus  much,  it  may  seem  a sort  of  wilful  profana- 
tion, to  turn  to  the  spiritless  abstract  of  this  speech,  which  is  to 
be  found  in  all  the  professed  reports  of  Parliamentary  oratory, 
and  which  stands,  like  one  of  those  half-clothed  mummies  in  the 
Sicilian  vaults,  with,  here  and  there,  a fragment  of  rhetorical 
drapery,  to  give  an  appearance  of  life  to  its  marrowless  frame. 
There  is,  however,  one  passage  so  strongly  marked  with  the 
characteristics  of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  talent — of  his  vigorous  use  of 
the  edge  of  the  blade,  with  his  too  frequent  display  of  the  glitter 
of  the  point — that  it  may  be  . looked  upon  as  a pretty  faithful 
representation  of  what  he  spoke,  and  claim  a place  among  the 
authentic  specimens  of  his  oratory.  Adverting  to  some  of  those 
admirers  of  Mr.  Hastings,  who  were  not  so  implicit  in  their 
partiality  as  to  give  unqualified  applause  to  his  crimes,  but  found 
an  excuse  for  their  atrocity  in  the  greatness  of  his  mind,  he  thus 
proceeds  : — 

To  estimate  the  solidity  of  such  a defence,  it  would  be  sufficient  merely 
to  consider  in  what  consisted  this  prepossing  distinction,  this  captivating 
characteristic  of  greatness  of  mind.  Is  it  not  solely  to  be  traced  in  great 
actions  directed  to  great  ends  ? In  them,  and  them  alone,  we  are  to  search 
for  true  estimable  magnanimity.  To  them  only  can  we  justly  affix  the 
splendid  title  and  honors  of  real  greatness.  There  was  indeed  another 
species  of  greatness,  which  displayed  itself  in  boldly  conceiving  a bad  mea- 

♦ The  following  anecdote  is  given  as  a proof  of  the  irresistible  power  of  this  speech  m 
a note  upon  Mr.  Bisset’s  History  of  the  Reign  of  George  III.  : — 

“The  late  Mr.  Logan,  well  known  for  his  literary  efforts,  and  author  of  a most  masterly 
defence  of  Mr.  Hastings,  went  that  day  to  the  House  of  Commons,  prepossessed  for  the 
accused  and  against  his  accuser.  At  the  expiration  of  the  first  hour  he  said  to  a friend, 

< All  this  is  declamatory  assertion  without  proof — when  the  second  was  finished,  ‘ This  is 
a most  wonderful  oration  — at  the  close  of  the  third,  ‘ Mr.  Hastings  has  acted  very  un- 
justifiably — the  fourth,  ‘Mr.  Hastings  is  a most  atrocious  criminal — and,  at  last,  ‘Of 
all  monsters  of  iniquity  the  most  enormous  is  Warren  Hastings  I’  ” 


292 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


sure,  and  undauntedly  pursuing  it  to  its  accomplishment.  But  had  Mi, 
Hastings  the  merit  of  exhibiting  either  of  these  descriptions  of  greatness, 
— even  of  the  latter  ? He  saw  nothing  great — nothing  magnanimous — no- 
thing open — nothing  direct  in  his  measures,  or  in  his  mind.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  had  too  often  pursued  the  worst  objects  by  the  worst  means.  His 
course  was  an  eternal  deviation  from  rectitude.  He  either  tyrannized  or  de- 
ceived ; and  was  by  turns  a Dionysius  and  a Scapin.*  As  well  might  the 
writhing  obliquity  of  the  serpent  be  compared  to  the  swift  directness  of  the 
arrow,  as  the  duplicity  of  Mr.  Hastings’s  ambition  to  the  simple  steadiness 
of  genuine  magnanimity.  In  his  mind  all  was  shuffling,  ambiguous,  dark, 
insidious,  and  little  : nothing  simple,  nothing  unmixed  : all  affected  plain- 
ness, and  actual  dissimulation  ; a heterogeneous  mass  of  contradictory  qua- 
lities ; with  nothing  great  but  his  crimes  ; and  even  those  conti^asted  by  the 
littleness  of  his  motives,  which  at  once  denoted  both  his  baseness  and  his 
meanness,  and  marked  him  for  a traitor  and  a trickster.  Nay,  in  his  style 
and  writing  there  was  the  same  mixture  of  vicious  contrarieties ; — the  most 
grovelling  ideas  were  conveyed  in  the  most  inflated  language,  giving  mock 
consequence  to  low  cavils,  and  uttering  quibbles  in  heroics ; so  that  his 
compositions  disgusted  the  mind’s  taste,  as  much  as  his  actions  excited  the 
soul’s  abhorrence.  Indeed  this  mixture  of  character  seemed,  by  some  un- 
accountable but  inherent  quality,  to  be  appropriated,  though  in  inferior  de- 
grees, to  everything  that  concerned  his  employers.  He  remembered  to 
have  heard  an  honorable  and  learned  gentleman  (Mr.  Dundas)  remark,  that 
there  was  something  in  the  first  frame  and  constitution  of  the  Company, 
which  extended  the  sordid  principles  of  their  origin  over  all  their  succes- 
sive operations ; connecting  wii^  their  civil  policy,  and  even  with  their 
boldest  achievements,  the  meanness  of  a pedlar  and  the  profligacy  of  pi- 
rates. Alike  in  the  political  .and  the  military  line  could  be  observed  auc- 
tioneering ambassadors  and  trading  generals  ; — and  thus  we  saw  a revolution 
brought  about  by  affidavits  ; an  army  employed  in  executing  an  arrest ; a 
town  besieged  on  a note  of  hand;  a prince  dethroned  for  the  balance  of 
an  account.  Thus  it  was  they  exhibited  a government,  which  united  the 
mock  majesty  of  a bloody  sceptre,  and  the  little  traffic  of  a merchant's 
ccunting-housey  wielding  a truncheon  with  one  hand,  and  picking  a pocket 
with  the  other.^^ 

The  effect  of  this  speech,  added  to  the  line  taken  by  the  Min- 
ister, turned  the  balance  against  Hastings,  and  decided  the  Im- 
peachment. 

Congratulations  on  his  success  poured  in  upon  Mr.  Sheridan, 

♦ The  spirit  of  this  observation  has  been  well  condensed  in  the  compound  name  given 
by  the  Abbe  de  Pradt  to  Napoleon — “ Jupiter  Scapin.” 


EIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  293 


as  may  be  supposed,  from  all  quarters ; and  the  letters  that  he 
received  from  his  own  family  on  the  occasion  were  preserved  by 
him  carefully  and  fondly  through  life.  The  following  extract 
from  one  written  by  Charles  Sheridan  is  highly  honorable  to  both 
brothers : — 


Dublin  CasiUj  \Zth  February ^ lYSY. 

“My  Dear  Dick, 

“ Could  I for  a moment  forget  you  were  my  brother,  I should, 
merely  as  an  Irishman,  think  myself  bound  to  thank  you,  for 
the  high  credit  you  have  done  your  country.  You  may  be  as- 
sured, therefore,  that  the  sense  of  national  pride,  which  I in  com- 
mon with  all  your  countrymen  on  this  side  of  the  water  must 
feel  on  this  splendid  occasion,  acquires  no  small  increase  of  per- 
sonal satisfaction,  when  I reflect  to  whom  Ireland  is  indebted, 
for  a display  of  ability  so  unequalled,  that  the  honor  derived 
from  it  seems  too  extensive  to  be  concentred  in  an  individual, 
but  ought  to  give,  and  I am  persuaded  will  give,  a new  respect 
for  the  name  of  Irishman.  I have  heard  and  read  the  accounts 
of  your  speech,  and  of  the  astonishing  impression  it  made,  with 
tears  of  exultation — but  what  will  flatter  you  more — I can  so- 
lemnly declare  it  to  be  a fact,  that  I have,  since  the  news  reached 
us,  seen  good  honest  Irish  pride,  national  pride  I mean,  bring 
tears  into  the  eyes  of  many  persons,  on  this  occasion,  w^ho  never 
saw  you.  I need  not,  after  what  I have  stated,  assure  you,  that 
it  is  with  the  most  heartfelt  satisfaction  that  I offer  you  my 
warmest  congratulations.  * * * 

The  following  is  from  his  eldest  sister,  Mrs.  Joseph  Le- 
fanu  : — 

“ My  Dear  Brother,  16^^  February^  1787. 

“ The  day  before  yesterday  I received  the  account  of  your 
glorious  speech.  Mr.  Crauford  was  so  good  as  to  write  a more 
pai'ticular  and  satisfactory  one  to  Mr.  Lefanu  than  we  could  have 
received  from  the  papers.  I have  watched  the  first  interval  of 
ease  from  a cruel  arid  almost  incessant  headache  to  give  vent  to 


'294:  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

my  feelings,  and  tell  you  howmuch  I rejoice  in  your  success. 
May  it  be  entire  ! May  the  God  who  fashioned  you,  and  gave 
you  powers  to  sway  the  hearts  of  men  and  control  their  way- 
ward wills,  be  equally  favorable  to  you  in  all  your  undertakings, 
and  make  your  reward  here  and  hereafter ! Amen,  from  the 
bottom  of  my  soul ! My  affection  for  you  has  been  ever  ‘ pass- 
ing the  love  of  women.’  Adverse  circumstances  have  deprived 
me  of  the  pleasure  of  your  society,  but  have  had  no  effect  in 
weakening  my  regard  for  you.  I know  your  heart  too  well  to 
suppose  that  regard  is  indifferent  to  you,  and  soothingly  sweet 
to  me  is  the  idea  that  in  some  pause  of  thought  from  the  impor- 
tant matters  that  occupy  your  mind,  your  earliest  friend  is  some- 
times recollected  by  you. 

“ I know  you  are  much  above  the  little  vanity  that  seeks  its 
gratification  in  the  praises  of  the  million,  but  you  must  be  pleased 
with  the  applause  of  the  discerning, — with  the  tribute  1 may  say 
>f  affection  paid  to  the  goodness  of  your  heart.  People  love 
your  character  as  much  as  they  admire  your  talents.  My  father 
is,  in  a degree  that  I did  not  expect,  gratified  with  the  general  at- 
tention you  have  excited  here  : he  seems  truly  pleased  that  men 
should  say,  ‘ There  goes  the  father  of  Gaul.’  If  your  fame  has 
shed  a ray  of  brightness  over  all  so  distinguished  as  to  be  con- 
nected with  you,  I am  sure  I may  say  it  has  infused  a ray  of 
gladness  into  my  heart,  deprest  as  it  has  been  with  ill  health  and 
long  confinement.  * 

There  is  also  another  letter  from  this  lady,  of  the  same  date, 
to  Mrs.  Sheridan,  which  begins  thus  enthusiastically  : — 

“ My  Dear  Sheri. 

“ Nothing  but  death  could  keep  me  silent  on  such  an  occasion 
as  this.  I wish  you  joy — I am  sure  you  feel  it : ^ oh  moments 
worth  whole  ages  past,  and  all  that  are  to  come.’  You  may 
laugh  at  my  enthusiasm  if  you  please — I glory  in  it.  * 

In  the  month  of  April  following,  Mr.  Sheridan  opened  the 
Seventh  Charge,  which  accused  Hastings  of  corruption,  in  receiv- 


BIGHT  HON.  BICHABD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  295 


ing  bribes  and  presents.  The  orator  was  here  again  lucky  in 
having  a branch  of  the  case  allotted  to  him,  which,  though  bv 
no  means  so  susceptible  of  the  ornaments  of  eloquence  as  the 
former,  had  the  advantage  of  being  equally  borne  out  by  testi- 
mony, and  formed  one  of  the  most  decided  features  of  the  cause. 
The  avidity,  indeed,  with  which  Hastings  exacted  presents,  and 
then  concealed  them  as  long  as  there  was  a chance  of  his  being 
able  to  appropriate  them  to  himself,  gave  a mean  and  ordinary 
air  to  iniquities,  whose  magnitude  would  otherwise  have  rendered 
them  imposing,  if  not  grand. 

The  circumstances,  under  which  the  present  from  Cheyte  Sing 
was  extorted  shall  be  related  when  I come  to  speak  of  the  great 
Speech  in  Westminster  Hall.  The  other  strong  cases  of  corrup- 
tion, on  which  Mr.  Sheridan  now  dwelt,  were  the  sums  given  by 
the  Munny  Begum  (in  return  for  her  appointment  to  a trust  for 
which,  it  appears,  she  was  unfit),  both  to  Hastings  himself  and 
his  useful  agent,  Middleton.  This  charge,  as  far  as  regards  the 
latter,  was  never  denied — and  the  suspicious  lengths  to  which  the 
Governor-general  went,  in  not  only  refusing  all  inquiry  into  his 
own  share  of  the  transaction,  but  having  his  accuser,  Nuncomar, 
silenced  by  an  unjust  sentence  of  death,  render  his  acquittal  on 
this  charge  such  a stretch  of  charity,  as  nothing  but  a total  igno 
ranee  of  the  evidence  and  all  its  bearings  can  justify. 

The  following  passage,  with  which  Sheridan  wound  up  his 
Speech  on  this  occasion,  is  as  strong  an  example  as  can  be 
adduced  of  that  worst  sort  of  florid  style,  which  prolongs  meta- 
phor into  allegory,  and,  instead  of  giving  in  a single  sentence  the 
essence  of  many  flowers,  spreads  the  dowers  themselves,  in 
crude  heaps,  over  a whole  paragraph : — 

In  conclusion  (he  observed),  that,  although  within  this  rank,  but  infi- 
nitely too  fruitful  wilderness  of  iniquities — within  this  dismal  and  unhal- 
lowed labyrinth — it  was  most  natural  to  cast  an  eye  of  indignation  and  con- 
cern over  the  wide  and  towering  forest  of  enormities  —all  rising  in  the 
dusky  magnificence  of  guilt ; and  to  fix  the  dreadfully  excited  attention 
upon  the  huge  trunks  of  revenge,  rapine,  tyranny,  and  oppression  ; yet  it 
became  not  less  necessary  to  trace  out  the  poisonous  weeds,  the  baleful 
brushwood,  and  all  tlie  little,  creeping,  deadly  plants,  which  were,  in  quan 


296 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


tity  and  extent,  if  possible,  more  noxious.  The  whole  range  of  this  far- 
spreading  calamity  was  sown  in  the  hot-bed  of  corruption  ^ and  had  risen, 
by  rapid  and  mature  growth,  into  every  species  of  illegal  and  atrocious 
violence.’* 

At  the  commencement  of  the  proceedings  against  Hastings, 
an  occurrence,  immediately  connected  with  them,  had  brought 
Sheridan  and  his  early  friend  Halhed  together,  under  circum- 
stances as  different  as  well  can  be  imagined  from  those  under 
which  they  had  parted  as  boys.  The  distance,  indeed,  that  had 
separated  them  in  the  interval  was  hardly  greater  than  the  diver- 
gence that  had  taken  place  in  their  pursuits  ; for,  while  Sheridan 
had  been  converted  into  a senator  and  statesman,  the  lively  Hal- 
hed had  become  an  East  Indian  Judge,  and  a learned  commen- 
tator on  the  Gentoo  Laws.  Upon  the  subject,  too,  on  which  they 
now  met,  their  views  and  interests  were  wholly  opposite, — 
Sheridan  being  the  accuser  of  Hastings,  and  Halhed  his  friend. 
The  following  are  the  public  circumstances  that  led  to  their  inter- 
view. 

In  one  of  the  earliest  debates  on  the  Charges  against  the 
Governor-general,  Major  Scott  having  asserted  that,  when  Mr, 
Fox  was  preparing  his  India  Bill,  overtures  of  accommodation 
had  been  made,  by  his  authority,  to  Mr.  Hastings,  added,  that  he 
(Major  Scott)  “ entertained  no  doubt  that,  had  Mr.  Hastings 
then  come  home,  he  would  have  heard  nothing  of  all  this  calum- 
ny, and  all  these  serious  accusations.’^  Mr.  Fox,  whom  this 
charge  evidently  took  by  surprise,  replied  that  he  was  wholly 
ignorant  of  any  such  overtures,  and  that  “ whoever  made,  or 
even  hinted  at  such  an  offer,  as  coming  from  him,  did  it  without 
the  smallest  shadow  of  authority.”  By  an  explanation,  a few 
days  after,  from  Mr.  Sheridan,  it  appeared  that  he  was  the  person 
who  had  taken  the  step  alluded  to  by  Major  Scott.  His  inter- 
ference, however,  he  said,  was  solely  founded  upon  an  opinion 
which  he  had  himself  formed  with  respect  to  the  India  Bill, — 
namely,  that  it  would  be  wiser,  on  grounds  of  expediency,  not  to. 
make  it  retrospective  in  any  of  its  clauses.  In  consequence  of 
tWs  opiniouj  he  had.  certainly  commiasiQued  a friend  to  inquire 


EIGHT  HON.  EICHAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  297 


of  Major  Scott,  whether,  if  Mr.  Hastings  were  recalled,  he  would 
come  home  ; — but  “ that  there  had  been  the  most  distant  idea 
of  bartering  with  Mr.  Hastings  for  his  support  of  the  Indian  Bill, 
he  utterly  denied.”  In  conclusion,  he  referred,  for  the  truth  of 
what  he  had  now  stated,  to  Major  Scott,  who  instantly  rising, 
acknowledged  that,  from  inquiries  which  he  had  since  made  of 
the  gentleman  deputed  to  him  by  Mr.  Sheridan  on  the  occasion, 
he  was  ready  to  bear  testimony  to  the  fairness  of  the  statement 
just  submitted  to  the  House,  and  to  admit  his  own  mistake  in 
the  interpretation  which  he  had  put  on  the  transaction. 

It  was  in  relation  to  this  misunderstanding  that  the  interview 
took  place  in  the  year  1786  between  Sheridan  and  Halhed — the 
other  persons  present  being  Major  Scott  and  Doctor  Parr,  from 
whom  I heard  the  circumstance.  The  feelings  of  this  venerable 
scholar  towards  “ iste  Scotus  ” (as  he  calls  Major  Scott  in  his 
Preface  to  Bellendenus)  were  not,  it  is  well  known,  of  the  most 
favorable  kind ; and  he  took  the  opportunity  of  this  interview 
to  tell  that  gentleman  fully  what  he  thought  of  him : — “ for  ten 
minutes,”  said  the  Doctor,  in  describing  his  aggression,  “ I poured 
out  upon  him  hot,  scalding  abuse — ’twas  lava.  Sir  1” 

Among  the  other  questions  that  occupied  the  attention  of  Mr. 
Sheridan  during  this  session,  the  most  important  were  the  Com- 
mercial Treaty  with  France,  and  the  Debts  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales. 

The  same  erroneous  views  by  which  the  opposition  to  the  Irish 
Comniercial  Propositions  was  directed,  still  continued  to  actuate 
Mr.  Fox  and  his  friends  in  their  pertinacious  resistance  to  the 
Treaty  with  France; — a measure  which  reflects  high  honor  upon 
the  memory  of  Mr.  Pitt,  as  one  of  the  first  efforts  of  a sound 
and  liberal  policy  to  break  through  that  system  of  restriction 
and  interference,  which  had  so  long  embarrassed  the  flow  of  in- 
ternational commerce. 

The  wisdom  of  leaving  trade  to  find  its  own  way  into  those  chan- 
nels which  the  reciprocity  of  wants  established  among  mankind 
opens  to  it,  is  one  of  those  obvious  truths  that  have  lain  long  on 
the  highways  of  knowledge,  before  practical  statesmen  would  con- 

voL.  I.  i 


298 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


descend  to  pick  them  up.  It  has  been  shown,  indeed,  that  the 
sound  principles  of  commerce  which  have  at  last  forced  their  way 
from  the  pages  of  thinking  men  into  the  councils  of  legislators, 
were  more  than  a hundred  years  since  promulgated  by  Sir  Dud- 
ley North  — and  in  the  Querist  of  Bishop  Berkeley  may  be 
found  the  outlines  of  all  that  the  best  friends  not  only  of  free 
trade  but  of  free  religion  would  recommend  to  the  rulers  of 
Ireland  at  the  present  day.  Thus  frequently  does  Truth,  before 
the  drowsy  world  is  prepared  for  her,  like 

“ The  nice  Morn  on  the  Indian  steep, 

_ From  her  cabin’d  loophole  peep.’^ 

Though  Mr.  Sheridan  spoke  frequently  in  the  course  of  the 
discussions,  he  does  not  appear  to  have,  at  any  time,  encountered 
the  main  body  of  the  question,  but  to  have  confined  himself 
chiefly  to  a consideration  of  the  eftects  which  the  treaty  vrould 
have  upon  the  interests  of  Ireland  ; — a point  which  he  urged  with 
so  much  earnestness,  as  to  draw  down  upon  him  from  one  of  the 
speakers  the  taunting  designation  of  “ Self-appointed  Represen- 
tative of  Ireland.” 

Mr.  Fox  was  the  most  active  antagonist  of  the  Treaty;  and 
his  speeches  on  the  subject  may  be  counted  among  those  feats  of 
prowess,  with  which  the  chivalry  of  Genius  sometimes  adorns  the 
cause  of  Error.  In  founding,  as  he  did,  his  chief  alignment 
against  commercial  intercourse  upon  the  “ natural  enmity  ” be- 
tween the  two  countries,  he  might  have  referred,  it  is  true,  to 
high  Whig  authority  : — “ The  late  Lord  Oxford  told  me,”  says 
Lord  Bolingbroke,  “ that  my  Lord  Somers  being  pressed,  I know 
not  on  what  occasion  or  by  whom,  on  the  unnecessary  and  ruinous 
continuation  of  the  war,  instead  of  giving  reasons  to  show  the 
necessity  of  it,  contented  himself  to  reply  that  he  had  been  bred 
up  in  a hatred  to  France.” — But  no  authority,  however  high,  can 
promote  a prejudice  into  a reason,  or  conciliate  respect  for 
this  sort  of  vague,  traditional  hostility,  vdiich  is  often  obliged  to 
seek  its  own  justification  in  the  very  mischiefs  which  itself  pro- 

f McCulloch’s  Lectures  on  Political  Economy 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  299 


duces.  If  Mr.  Fox  ever  happened  to  peruse  the  praises,  which 
his  Antigallican  sentiments  on  this  occasion  procured  for  him, 
from  the  tedious  biographer  of  his  rival,  Mr.  Gifford,  he  would 
have  suspected,  like  Phocion,  that  he  must  have  spoken  some- 
thing unworthy  of  himself,  to  have  drawn  down  upon  his  head  a 
panegyric  from  such  a quarter. 

Another  of  Mr.  Fox’s  arguments  against  entering  into  com- 
mercial relations  with  France,  was  the  danger  lest  English  mer- 
chants, by  investing  their  capital  in  foreign  speculations,  should 
become  so  entangled  with  the  mterests  of  another  country  as  to 
render  them  less  jealous  than  they  ought  to  be  of  the  honor  of 
their  own,  and  less  ready  to  rise  in  its  defence,  when  wronged  or 
insulted.  But,  assuredly,  a want  of  pugnacity  is  not  the  evil  to 
be  dreaded  among  nations — still  less  between  two,  whom  the 
orator  had  just  represented  as  inspired  by  a “natural  enmity” 
against  each  other.  He  ought  rather,  upon  this  assumption,  to 
have  welcomed  the  prospect  of  a connection,  which,  by  trans- 
fusing and  blending  their  commercial  interests,  and  giving  each 
a stake  in  the  prosperity  of  the  other,  would  not  only  soften  away 
the  animal  antipathy  attributed  to  them,  but,  by  enlisting  selfish- 
ness on  the  side  of  peace  and  amity,  afford  the  best  guarantee 
against  wanton  warfare,  that  the  wdsdom  of  statesmen  or  philos- 
ophers has  yet  devised. 

Mr.  Burke,  in  affecting  to  consider  the  question  in  an  enlarged 
point  of  view,  fell  equally  short  of  its  real  dimensions ; and  even 
descended  to  the  weakness  of  ridiculing  such  commercial  ar- 
rangements, as  unworthy  altogether  of  the  contemplation  of  the 
higher  order  of  statesmen.  “ The  Eight  Honorable  gentleman,” 
he  said,  “ had  talked  of  the  treaty  as  if  it  were  the  affair  of  two 
little  counting-houses,  and  not  of  two  great  countries.  He 
seemed  to  consider  it  as  a contention  between  the  sign  of  the 
Fleur-de-lis,  and  the  sign  of  the  Bed  Lion,  which  house  should 
obtain  the  best  custom.  Such  paltry  considerations  were  below 
his  notice.” 

In  such  terms  could  Burke,  from  temper  or  waywardness  of 
judgment,  attempt  to  depreciate  a speech  which  may  be  said  to 


800 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


have  contained  the  first  luminous  statement  of  the  principles  of 
commerce,  with  the  most  judicious  views  of  their  application  to  de- 
tails, that  had  ever,  at  that  period,  been  presented  to  the  House. 

The  wise  and  enlightened  opinions  of  Mr.  Pitt,  both  with  re- 
spect to  trade,  and  another  very  different  subject  of  legislation, 
Religion,  would  have  been  far  more  worthy  of  the  imitation  of 
some  of  his  self-styled  followers,  than  those  errors  which  they  are 
so  glad  to  shelter  under  the  sanction  of  his  name.  For  encroach- 
ments upon  the  property  and  liberty  of  the  subject,  for  financial 
waste  and  unconstitutional  severity,  they  have  the  precedent  of 
their  great  master  ever  ready  on  their  lips.  But,  in  all  that 
would  require  wisdom  and  liberality  in  his  copyists — in  the  re- 
pugnance he  felt  to  restrictions  and  exclusions,  affecting  either 
the  worldly  commerce  of  man  with  man,  or  the  spiritual  inter- 
course of  man  with  his  God, — in  all  this,  like  the  Indian  that 
quarrels  with  his  idol,  these  pretended  followers  not  only  dissent 
from  their  prototype  themselves,  but  violently  denounce,  as  mis- 
chievous, his  opinions  when  adopted  by  others. 

In  attributing  to  party  feelings  the  wrong  views  entertained  by 
the  Opposition  on  this  question,  we  should  but  defend  their 
sagacity  at  the  expense  of  their  candor ; and  the  cordiality,  in- 
deed, with  which  they  came  forward  this  year  to  praise  the  spirited 
part  taken  by  the  Minister  in  the  affairs  of  Holland — even  al- 
lowing that  it  would  be  difficult  for  Whigs  not  to  concur  in  a 
measure  so  national — sufficiently  acquits  them  of  any  such  per- 
verse spirit  of  party,  as  would,  for  the  mere  sake  of  opposition, 
go  wrong  because  the  Minister  was  right.  To  the  sincerity  of 
one  of  their  objections  to  the  Treaty — namely,  that  it  was  a de- 
sign, on  the  part  of  France,  to  detach  England,  by  the  tempta- 
tion of  a mercantile  advantage,  from  her  ancient  alliance  with 
Holland  and  her  other  continental  connections — Mr.  Burke  bore 
testimony,  as  far  as  himself  was  concerned,  by  repeating  the 
same  opinions,  after  an  interval  of  ten  years,  in  his  testamentary 
work,  the  “ Letters  on  a Regicide  Peace.” 

The  other  important  question  which  I have  mentioned  as  en- 
gaging, during  the  session  of  1787,  the  attention  of  Mr.  Sheri- 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  801 


dan,  was  the  application  to  Parliament  for  the  payment  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales’s  debts.  The  embarrassments  of  the  Heir 
Apparent  were  but  a natural  consequence  of  his  situation ; and 
a little  more  graciousness  and  promptitude  on  the  part  of  the 
King,  in  interposing  to  relieve  His  Royal  Highness  from  the 
difficulties  under  which  he  labored,  would  have  afforded  a chance 
of  detaching  him  from  his  new  political  associates,  of  which, 
however  the  affection  of  the  Royal  parent  may  have  slumbered, 
it  is  strange  that  his  sagacity  did  not  hasten  to  avail  itself  A 
contrary  system,  however,  was  adopted.  The  haughty  indiffer- 
ence both  of  the  monarch  and  his  minister  threw  the  Prince  en- 
tirely on  the  sympathy  of  the  Opposition.  Mr.  Pitt  identified 
himself  with  the  obstinacy  of  the  father,  while  Mr.  Fox  and  the 
Opposition  committed  themselves  with  the  irregularities  of  the 
son  • and  the  proceedings  of  both  parties  were  such  as  might 
have  been  expected  from  their  respective  connections — the  Royal 
mark  was  but  too  visible  upon  each. 

One  evil  consequence,  that  was  on  the  point  of  resulting  from 
the  embarrassed  situation  in  which  the  Prince  now  found  himself, 
was  his  acceptance  of  a loan  which  the  Duke  of  Orleans  had 
proffered  him,  and  which  would  have  had  the  perilous  tendency 
of  placing  the  future  Sovereign  of  England  in  a state  of  depen- 
dence, as  creditor,  on  a Prince  of  France.  That  the  negotiations 
in  this  extraordinary  transaction  had  proceeded  farther  than  is 
generally  supposed,  will  appear  from  the  following  letters  of  the 
Duke  of  Portland  to  Sheridan : — 

“Dear  Sheridait,  Sunday  noon^  13  Dec. 

“ Since  I saw  you  I have  received  a confirmation  of  the  intel- 
ligence which  was  the  subject  of  our  conversation.  The  partic- 
ulars varied  in  no  respect  from  those  I related  to  you — except 
in  the  addition  of  a pension,  which  is  to  take  place  immediately 
on  the  event  which  entitles  the  creditors  to  payment,  and  is  to 

be  granted  for  life  to  a nominee  of  the  D.  of  O s.  The  loan 

was  mentioned  in  a mixed  company  by  two  of  the  Frenchwomen 
and  a Frenchman  (none  of  whose  names  I know)  in  Calonne's 


302 


MEMOIHS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


presence,  who  interrupted  them,  by  asking,  how  they  came  to 
know  any  thing  of  the  matter,  then  set  them  right  in  two  or 
three  particulars  which  they  had  misstated,  and  afterwards  begged 
them,  for  God’s  sake,  not  to  talk  of  it,  because  it  might  be  their 
complete  ruin. 

“ I am  going  to  Bulstrode — but  will  return  at  a moment’s  no- 
tice, if  I can  be  of  the  least  use  in  getting  rid  of  this  odious  en- 
gagement, or  preventing  its  being  entered  into,  if  it  should  not 
be  yet  completed. 

‘‘  Yours  ever, 

cc  p 


‘‘  Dear  Sheridan, 

“ I think  myself  much  obliged  to  you  for  what  you  have  done. 
I hope  I am  not  too  sanguine  in  looking  to  a good  conclusion  of 
this  bad  business.  I will  certainly  be  in  town  by  two  o’clock. 


“ Yours  ever, 

« p 5?  ‘ 


“ Bulstrode^  Monday y 14.  Dec* 

9 A.  M. 

Mr.  Sheridan,  who  was  now  high  in  the  confidence  of  the 
Prince,  had  twice,  in  the  course  of  the  year  1786,  taken  occasion 
to  allude  publicly  to  the  embarrassments  of  His  Royal  Highness. 
Indeed,  the  decisive  measure  which  this  Illustrious  Person  him- 
self had  adopted,  in  reducing  his  establishment  and  devoting  a 
part  of  his  income  to  the  discharge  of  his  debts,  sufficiently  pro- 
claimed the  true  state  of  affairs  to  the  public.  Still,  however, 
the  strange  policy  was  persevered  in,  of  adding  the  discontent 
of  the  Heir- Apparent  to  the  other  weapons  in  the  hands  of  the 
Opposition  ; — and,  as  might  be  expected,  they  were  not  tardy 
in  turning  it  to  account.  In  the  spring  of  1787,  the  embarrassed 
state  of  His  Royal  Highness’s  affairs  was  brought  formally  under 
the  notice  of  parliament  by  Alderman  Newenham. 

During  one  of  the  discussions  to  which  the  subject  gave  rise, 
Mr.  Rolle,  the  member  for  Devonshire,  a strong  adherent  of 
the  ministry,  in  deprecating  the  question  about  to  be  agitated, 


EIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLET  SHERIDAN.  303 

affirmed  that  “ it  went  immediately  to  affect  our  Constitution 
in  Church  and  State.”  In  these  solemn  words  it  was  well  under- 
stood, that  he  alluded  to  a report  at  that  time  generally  believed, 
and,  indeed,  acted  upon  by  many  in  the  etiquette  of  private  life, 
that  a marriage  had  been  solemnized  between  the  Prince  of 
Wales  and  Mrs.  Pitzherbert — a lady  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
persuasion,  who,  with  more  danger  to  her  own  peace  than  to  that 
of  either  Church  or  State,  had  for  some  time  been  the  distin- 
guished object  of  His  Royal  Highness’s  affection. 

Even  had  an  alliance  of  this  description  taken  place,  the  pro- 
visions of  the  Royal  Marriage  Act  would  have  nullified  it  into  a 
mere  ceremony,  inefficient,  as  it  was  supposed,  for  any  other 
purpose  than  that  of  satisfying  the  scruples  of  one  of  the  parties. 
But  that  dread  of  Popery,  which  in  England  starts  at  its  own 
shadow,  took  alarm  at  the  consequences  of  an  intercourse  so 
heterodox ; and  it  became  necessary,  in  the  opinion  of  the  Prince 
and  his  friends,  to  put  an  end  to  the  apprehensions  that  were 
abroad  on  the  subject. 

Nor  can  it  be  denied  that,  in  the  minds  of  those  who  believed 
that  the  marriage  had  been  actually  solemnized,*  there  were,  in 
one  point  of  view,  very  sufficient  grounds  of  alarm.  By  the 
Statute  of  William  and  Mary,  commonly  called  the  Bill  of 
Rights,  it  is  enacted,  among  other  causes  of  exclusion  from  the 
throne,  that  “ every  person  who  shall  marry  a Papist  shall  be 
excluded  and  for  ever  be  incapable  to  inherit  the  crown  of  this 
realm.” — In  such  cases  (adds  this  truly  revolutionary  Act)  “ the 
people  of  these  realms  shall  be  and  are  hereby  absolved  of  their 
allegiance.”  Under  this  Act,  which  was  confirmed  by  the  Act 
of  Settlement,  it  is  evident  that  the  Heir-Apparent  would,  by 
such  a marriage  as  was  now  attributed  to  him,  have  forfeited  his 
right  of  succession  to  the  throne.  From  so  serious  a penalty, 
however,  it  was  generally  supposed,  he  would  have  been  ex- 
empted by  the  operation  of  the  Royal  Marriage  Act  (12  George 
III.),  which  rendered  null  and  void  any  marriage  contracted  by 


* Horne  Tooke,  in  his  insidious  pamphlet  on  the  subject,  presumed  so  far  on  ihis  belief 
as  to  call  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  “ Her  Royal  Highness.’’ 


804 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


any  descendant  of  George  II.  without  the  previous  consent  of 
the  King,  or  a twelve  months’  notice  given  to  the  Privy  Council. 

That  this  Act  would  have  nullified  the  alleged  marriage  of  the 
Prince  of  W ales  there  is,  of  course,  no  doubt ; — ^but  that  it 
would  also  have  exempted  him  /rom  the  forfeiture  incurred  by 
marriage  with  a Papist,  is  a point  which,  in  the  minds  of  many, 
still  remains  a question.  There  are,  it  is  well  known,  analogous 
cases  in  Law,  where  the  nullity  of  an  illegal  transaction  does  not 
do  away  the  penalty  attached  to  it."^  To  persons,  therefore,  who 
believed  that  the  actual  solemnization  of  the  marriage  could  be 
proved  by  witnesses  present  at  the  ceremony,  this  view  of  the 
case,  which  seemed  to  promise  an  interruption  of  the  Succes- 
sion, could  not  fail  to  suggest  some  disquieting  apprehensions 
and  speculations,  which  nothing  short,  it  was  thought,  of  a pub- 
lic and  authentic  disavowal  of  the  marriage  altogether  would 
be  able  effectually  to  allay. 

If  in  politics  Princes  are  unsafe  allies,  in  connections  of  a ten- 
derer -nature  they  are  still  more  perilous  partners ; and  a triumph 
over  a Royal  lover  is  dearly  bought  by  the  various  risks  and 
humiliations  which  accompany  it.  Not  only  is  a lower  standard 
of  constancy  applied  to  persons  of  that  rank,  but  when  once 
love-affairs  are  converted  into  matters  of  state,  there  is  an  end  to 
all  the  delicacy  and  mystery  that  ought  to  encircle  them.  The 
disavowal  of  a Royal  marriage  in  the  Gazette  would  have  been 
no  novelty  in  English  history  ;f  and  the  disclaimer,  on  the  pre- 
sent occasion,  though  intrusted  to  a less  official  medium,  was 
equally  public,  strong,  and  unceremonious. 

Mr.  Fox,  who  had  not  been  present  in  the  House  of  Commons 

* Thus,  a man,  by  contracting  a second  marriage,  pending  the  first  marriage,  commits 
a felony  ; and  the  crime,  according  to  its  legal  description,  cc  nsisls  in  marrying,  or  con- 
tracting a marriage — though  what  he  does  is  no  more  a marriage  than  that  of  the  Heir- 
Apparent  would  be  under  the  circumstances  in  question. 

The  same  principle,  it  appears,  runs  through  the  whole  Law  of  F’Uails  both  in  England 
and  Scotland,  and  a variety  of  cases  might  be  cited,  in  which,  though  the  act  done  is  void, 
yet  the  doing  of  it  creates  a forfeiture. 

f See,  in  Ellis’s  Letters  of  History,  vol.  iii.  the  declarations  of  Charles  H.  with  respect 
to  his  marriage  with  “ one  Mrs.  Walters,”  signed  b}  himself  and  published  in  the  London 
Gazette. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  305 


when  the  member  for  Devonshire  alluded  to  the  circumstance, 
took  occasion,  on  the  next  discussion  of  the  questi(p,  and,  as  he 
declared,  with  the  immediate  authority  of  the  Prince,  to  contra- 
dict the  report  of  the  marriage  in  the  fullest  and  most  unqualified 
terms : — it  was,  he  said,  “ a miserable  calumny,  a low  malicious 
falsehood,  which  had  been  propagated  without  doors,  and  made 
the  wanton  sport  of  the  vulgar ; — a tale,  fit  only  to  impose  upon 
the  lowest  orders,  a monstrous  invention,  a report  of  a fact  which 
had  not  the  smallest  degree  of  foundation,  actually  impossible  to 
nave  happened.”  To  an  observation  from  Mr.  Rolle  that  “ they 
all  knew  there  was  an  act  of  Parliament  which  forbade  such  a 
marriage ; but  that,  though  it  could  not  be  done  under  the  formal 
sanction  of  the  law,  there  were  ways  in  which  it  might  have  taken 
place,  and  in  which  that  law,  in  the  minds  of  some  persons,  might 
have  been  satisfactorily  evaded,” — Mr.  Fox  replied,  that  “ he  did 
not  deny  the  calumny  in  question  merely  with  regard  to  certain 
existing  laws,  but  that  he  denied  it  in  toto^  in  point  of  fact  as  well 
as  of  law : — it  not  only  never  could  have  happened  legally,  but  it 
never  did  happen  in  any  way  whatsoever,  and  had  from  the  be- 
ginning been  a base  and  malicious  falsehood.” 

Though  Mr.  Rolle,  from  either  obstinacy  or  real  distrust,  re- 
fused, in  spite  of  the  repeated  calls  of  Mr.  Sheridan  and  Mr. 
Grey,  to  declare  himself  satisfied  with  this  declaration,  it  was 
felt  by  the  minister  to  be  at  least  sufficiently  explicit  and  deci- 
sive, to  leave  him  no  further  pretext  in  the  eyes  of  the  public, 
for  refusing  the  relief  which  the  situation  of  the  Prince  required. 
Accordingly  a message  from  the  Crown  on  the  subject  of  His 
Royal  Highness’s  debts  was  followed  by  an  addition  to  his 
income  of  £10,000  yearly  out  of  the  Civil  List ; an  issue  of 
£161,000  from  the  same  source,  for  the  discharge  of  his  debts, 
and  £20,000  on  account  of  the  works  at  Carlton  House. 

In  the  same  proportion  that  this  authorized  declaration  was 
successful  in  satisfying  the  public  mind,  it  must  naturally  have 
been  painful  and  humiliating  to  the  person  whose  honor  was  in- 
volved in  it.  The  immediate  consequence  of  this  feeling  was  a 


306 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


breach  between  that  person  and  Mr.  Fox,  which,  notwithstand 
ing  the  continuance,  for  so  many  years  after,  of  the  attachment 
of  both  to  the  same  illustrious  object,  remained,  it  is  understood, 
unreconciled  to  the  last. 

If,  in  the  first  movement  of  sympathy  with  the  pain  excited  in 
that  quarter,  a retractation  of  this  public  disavowal  was  thought 
of,  the  impossibility  of  finding  any  creditable  medium  through 
which  to  convey  it,  must  soon  have  suggested  itself  to  check  the 
intention.  Some  middle  course,  however,  it  was  thought,  might 
be  adopted,  which,  without  going  the  full  length  of  retracting, 
might  tend  at  least  to  unsettle  the  impression  left  upon  the  pub- 
lic, and,  in  some  degree,  retrieve  that  loss  of  station,  which  a 
disclaimer,  coming  in  such  an  authentic  shape,  had  entailed.  To 
ask  Mr.  Fox  to  discredit  his  own  statement  was  impossible.  An 
application  was,  therefore,  made  to  a young  member  of  the  party, 
who  was  then  fast  rising  into  the  eminence  which  he  has  since  so 
nobly  sustained,  and  whose  answer  to  the  proposal  is  said  to 
have  betrayed  some  of  that  unaccommodating  highmindedness, 
which,  in  more  than  one  collision  witn  Royalty,  has  proved  him 
but  an  unfit  adjunct  to  a Court.  The  reply  to  his  refusal  was, 
“ Then  I must  get  Sheridan  to  say  something — and  hence,  it 
seems,  was  the  origin  of  those  few  dexterously  unmeaning  com 
pliments,  with  which  the  latter,  when  the  motion  of  Alderman 
Newenham  was  withdrawn,  endeavored,  without  in  the  least  de- 
gree weakening  the  declaration  of  Mr.  Fox,  to  restore  that  equi- 
librium of  temper  and  self-esteem,  which  such  a sacrifice  of  gal- 
lantry to  expediency  had  naturally  disturbed.  In  alluding  to  the 
offer  of  the  Prince,  through  Mr.  Fox,  to  answer  any  questions 
upon  the  subject  of  his  reported  marriage,  which  it  might  be 
thought  proper  to  put  to  him  in  the  House,  Mr.  Sheridan 
said, — ‘*That  no  such  idea  had  been  pursued,  and  no  such  in- 
quiry had  been  adopted,  was  a point  which  did  credit  to  the  de- 
corum, the  feelings,  and  the  dignity  of  Parliament.  But  whilst 
His  Royal  Highness’s  feelings  had  no  doubt  been  considered  on 
this  occasion,  he  must  take  the  liberty  of  saying,  however  some 


HlGHl’  HOK.  KICHAUD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  S01 


might  think  it  a subordinate  consideration,  that  there  was  another 
person  entitled,  in  every  delicate  and  honorable  mind,  to  the 
same  attention ; one,  whom  he  would  not  otherwise  venture  to 
describe  or  allude  to,  but  by  saying  it  was  a name,  which  malice 
or  ignorance  alone  could  attempt  to  injure,  and  whose  character 
and  conduct  claimed  and  were  entitled  to  the  truest  respect.” 


/ 


CONTENTS  TO  VOL.  II 


CHAPTER  I. 

Impeacliment  of  Mr.  Hastings 5 

C a ATTER  II. 

Deaio  of  Mr.  Sheridan^s  Father. — Verses  by  Mrs.  Sheridan  on  the  Dealhoi 
her  Sister,  Mrs.  Tickell  . . ...  . . .43 


CHAPTER  III. 

Illness  of  the  King.-  JLegency. — Private  Life  of  Mr.  Sheridan.  . 54 

CHAPTER  IV. 

French  Revolution. — Mr.  Burke. — His  Breach  with  Mr.  Sheridan. — Disso- 
lution of  Parliament. — Mr.  Burke  and  Mr.  Fox. — Russian  Armament.— 


Royal  Scotch  Boroughs.  . . 96 

% 

CHAPTER  V. 

Death  of  Mrs.  Sheridan. . . , . 124 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Drury-Lane  Th3atre. — Society  of  •*  The  Friends  of  tlie  People.’’ — Madame 
de  Genlis. — War  with  France. — Whig  Seceders. — Speeches  in  Parlia- 
ment.— Death  of  Tickell. 14.3 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Speech  in  Answer  to  Lord  Mornington.— Coalition  of  the  Whig  Seceders 
v/ith  Mr.  Pitt. — Mr.  Canning. — Evidence  on  the  Trial  of  Horne  Tooke. — 
The  ^‘Glorious  First  of  June.” — Marriage  of  Mr.  Sheridan. — Pamphlet 
of  Mr.  Reeyes. — Debts  of  the  Prince  of  Wales. — Shakspeare  Manuscripts. 

Trial  of  Stone.— Mutiny  at  the  Nore. — Secession  of  Mr.  Fox  from 

Parliament 177 


(3) 


rv 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

Play  of  “ Tho  Stranger. ’’--Spoechos  in  Parliament. — Pizarro. — Ministry 
Oi  Mr.  Addington. — French  Institute. —Negotiations  with  Mr.  Kem- 
ble  203 


CHAPTER  IX. 

State  of  Parties. — Offer  of  a Place  to  Mr.  T.  Sheridan. — Receivership  of 
the  Duchy  of  Cornwall  bestowed  upon  Mr.  Sheridan. — Return  of  Mr. 
Pitt  to  Power. — Catholic  Question. — Administration  of  Lord  Grenville 
and  Mr.  Fox. — Death  of  Mr.  Fox. — Representation  of  Westminster, — 
Dismission  of  the  Ministry. — Theatrical  Negotiation. — Spanish  Question. 
— ^Letter  to  the  Prince.  . . 226 


CHAPTER  X. 

Destruction  of  the  Theatre  of  Drury-Lane  by  Fire. — Mr.  Whitbread. - 
Plan  for  a Third  Theatre. — Illness  of  the  King. — Regency. — Lord  Grey 
and  Lord  Grenville. — Conduct  of  Mr.  Sheridan. — His  Vindication  ot 
nimself. 259 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Affairs  of  the  new  Theatre. — Mr.  Whitbread. — Negotiations  with  Lord 
Grey  and  Lord  Grenville. — Conduct  of  Mr.  Sheridan  relative  to  the 
Household. — His  Last  Words  in  Parliament. — Failure  at  Stafford. — Cor* 
respondence  with  Mr.  Whitbread. — Lord  Byron. — Distresses  of  Sheri- 
dan.— Illness. — Death  and  Funeral, — General  Remark/^  . 285 


MEMOIRS 


OF  THE 

LIFE  OF  THE  RT.  HON. 

RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN 


CHAPTER  I. 

IMPEACHMENT  OF  MR.  HASTINGS. 

The  motion  of  Mr.  Burke  on  the  lOtli  of  May,  1787,  “ That 
Warren  Hastings,  Esq.,  be  impeached,”  having  been  carried  with- 
out a division,  Mr.  Sheridan  was  appointed  one  of  the  Managers, 
“ to  make  good  the  Articles  ” of  the  Impeachment,  and,  on  the 
3d  of  June  in  the  following  year,  brought  forward  the  same 
Charge  in  Westminster  Hall  which  he  had  already  enforced  with 
such  wonderful  talent  in  the  House  of  Commons. 

To  be  called  upon  for  a second  great  effort  of  eloquence,  on  a 
subject  of  which  all  the  facts  and  the  bearings  remained  the  same, 
was,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  no  ordinary  trial  to  even  the  most 
fertile  genius ; and  Mr.  Eox,  it  is  said,  hopeless  of  any  second  flight 
over  rising  to  the  grand  elevation  of  the  first,  advised  that  the  for- 
mer Speech  should  be,  with  very  little  change,  repeated.  But  such 
a plan,  however  welcome  it  might  be  to  the  indolence  of  his  friend, 
would  nave  looked  too  like  an  acknowledgment  of  exhaustion  on 
the  f object  to  be  submitted  to  by  one  so  j ustly  confident  in  the 
resources  both  of  his  reason  and  fancy.  Accordingly,  he  had  the 
glory  of  again  opening,  in  the  very  same  field,  a new  and  abundant 
spring  of  eloquence,  which,  during  four  dajs,  diffused  its  erichant- 


6 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


zuent  among  an  assembly  of  the  most  illustrious  persons  of  the 
l?^nd,  and  of  which  Mr.  Burke  pronounced  at  its  conclusion,  that 
of  all  the  various  species  of  oratory,  of  every  kind  of  eloquence 
had  been  heard,  either  in  ancient  or  modern  times ; whatever 
the  acuteness  of  the  bar,  the  dignity  of  the  senate,  or  the  morality 
of  the  pulpit  could  furnish,  had  not  been  equal  to  what  that  House 
had  that  day  heard  in  Westminster  Hall.  No  holy  religionist, 
no  man  of  any  description  as  a literary  character,  could  have  come 
up,  in  the  one  instance,  to  the  pure  sentiments  of  morality,  or  in 
the  other,  to  the  variety  of  knowledge,  force  of  imagination,  pro- 
priety and  vivacity  of  allusion,  beauty  and  elegance  of  diction,  and 
strength  of  expression,  to  which  they  had  that  day  listened.  From 
poetry  up  to  eloquence  there  was  not  a species  of  composition  of 
which  a complete  and  perfect  specimen  might  not  have  been  cull- 
ed, from  one  part  or  the  other  of  the  speech  to  which  he  alluded, 
and  which,  he  was  persuaded,  had  left  too  strong  an  impression  on 
the  minds  of  that  House  to  be  easily  obliterated.” 

As  some  atonement  to  the  world  for  the  loss  of  the  Speech  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  this  second  master-piece  of  eloquence 
on  the  same  subject  has  been  preserved  to  us  in  a Report,  from 
the  short-hand  notes  of  Mr.  Gurney,  which  w^as  for  some  time  in 
the  possession  of  the  late  Duke  of  Norfolk,  but  was  afterwards 
restored  to  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  is  now  in  my  hands. 

In  order  to  enable  the  reader  fully  to  understand  the  extracts 
from  this  Report  which  I am  about  to  give,  it  will  be  necessary  to 
detail  briefly  the  history  of  the  transaction,  on  which  the  charge 
brought  forward  in  the  Speech  w^as  founded. 

Among  the  native  Princes  who,  on  the  transfer  of  the  sceptre 
of  Tamerlane  to  the  East  India  Company,  became  tributaries  or 
rather  slaves  to  that  Honorable  body,  none  seems  to  have  beer, 
treated  with  more  capricious  cruelty  than  Cheyte  Sing,  the  Rajah 
of  Benares.  In  defiance  of  a solemn  treaty,  entered  into  between 
him  and  :he  government  of  Mr.  Hastings,  by  which  it  was  sti- 
pulated that,  besides  his  fixed  tribute,  no  further  demands,  of  any 
kind,  should  be  made  upon  him,  new  exactions  were  every  year 
enforced ; —while  the  hunable  remonstrances  of  the  Rajah  against 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN. 


7 


such  gross  injustice  were  not  only  treated  with  slight,  but  pun- 
ished by  arbitrary  and  enormous  fines.  Even  the  proffer  of  a 
bribe  succeeded  only  in  being  accepted^ — the  exactions  which  it 
was  intended  to  avert  being  continued  as  rigorously  as  before. 
At  length,  in  the  year  1781,  Mr.  Hastings,  who  invariably,  among 
the  objects  of  his  government,  placed  the  interests  of  Leadenhall- 
Street  first  on  the  list,  and  those  of  justice  and  humanity  lori[fo 
mtcrvallo  after, — finding  the  treasury  of  the  Company  in  a very 
exhausted  state,  resolved  to  sacrifice  this  unlucky  Rajah  to  their 
replenishment ; and  having  as  a preliminary  step,  imposed  upon 
him  a mulct  of  £500,000,  set  out  immediately  for  his  capital, 
Benares,  to  compel  the  payment  of  it.  Here,  after  rejecting  with 
insult  the  suppliant  advances  of  the  Prince,  he  put  him  under 
arrest,  and  imprisoned  him  in  his  own  palace.  This  violation  of 
the  rights  and  the  roof  of  their  sovereign  drove  the  people  of 
the  whole  province  into  a sudden  burst  of  rebellion,  of  which  Mr. 
Hastings  himself  was  near  being  the  victim.  The  usual  triumph, 
however,  of  might  over  right  ensued ; the  Rajah’s  castle  was 
plundered  of  all  its  treasures,  and  his  mother,  who  had  "aken 
refuge  in  the  fort,  and  only  surrendered  it  on  the  express  stipu- 
lation that  she  and  the  other  princesses  should  pass  out  safe  from 
the  dishonor  of  search,  waSj  in  violation  of  this  condition,  and  at 
the  base  suggestion  of  Mr.  Hastings  himself, f rudely  examined 
and  despoiled  of  all  her  effects.  The  Governor-General,  how 
ever,  in  this  one  instance,  ‘ncurred  the  full  odium  of  iniquity 
without  reaping  any  of  its  reward.  The  treasures  found  in  :he 

* This  was  the  transaction  that  formed  one  of  the  principal  grounds  of  the  Seventn 
Charge  brought  forward  in  the  House  of  Commons  by  Mr.  Sheridan.  The  suspicious  cir 
cumsta;icefi  attending  this  present  are  thus  summed  up  by  Mr.  Mill  : “ At  first,  perfect 
concealment  of  the  transaction — such  measures,  however,  taken  as  may,  if  afterwards 
necessary,  appear  to  imply  a design  of  future  disclosure  ; — when  concealment  becomes 
difficult  and  hazardous,  then  disclosure  made.” — History  of  British  India. 

f In  his  letter  to  the  Commanding  Officer  at  Bidgcgur.  The  following  are  the  terms  a 
which  he  conveys  the  hint  : “I  apprehend  that  she  will  contrive  to  defraud  the  captors  ct 
a considciable  part  of  the  booty,  by  being  suffered  to  rettie  uhthout  examination.  But  this 
is  ysxir  ennsid oration,  and  not  mine.  I should  be  veny  sorry  that  your  officers  and  nol 
die’ 3 lost  any  part  of  the  reward  to  which  they  are  so  well  entitled  ; but  I cannot  make 
any  objection,  as  you  must  be  the  best  judge  of  the  e^fpediency  of  promised  /ndulgeuce 
to  ;.av  rianuec,” 


8 MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

castle  of  the  Rajah  were  inconsiderable,  and  the  soldiers,  who  had 
shown  themselves  so  docile  in  receiving  the  lessons  of  plunder, 
were  found  inflexibly  obstinate  in  refusing  to  admit  their  instruc- 
tor to  a share.  Disappointed,  therefore,  in  the  primary  object 
of  his  expedition,  the  Governor-General  looked  round  for  some 
richer  harvest  of  rapine,  and  the  Begums  of  Oude  presented 
themselves  as  the  most  convenient  victims.  These  Princesses, 
the  mother  and  grandmother  of  the  reigning  Nabob  of  Oude, 
had  been  left  by  the  late  sovereign  in  possession  of  certain 
government-estates,  or  jaghires,  as  well  as  of  all  the  treasure  that 
was  in  his  hands  at  the  time  of  his  death,  and  which  the  oriental- 
ized imaginations  of  the  English  exaggerated  to  an  enormous 
sum.  The  present  Nabob  had  evidently  looked  with  an  eye  of 
c’mldity  on  this  wealth,  and  had  been  guilty  of  some  acts  of  ex- 
tortion towards  his  female  relatives,  in  consequence  of  which  the 
English  government  had  interfered  between  them, — and  had  even 
guaranteed  to  the  mother  of  the  Nabob  the  safe  possession  of 
her  property,  without  any  further  encroachment  whatever.  Gua- 
rantees and  treaties,  however,  w^ere  but  cobwebs  in  the  way  of 
Air.  Hastings ; and  on  his  failure  at  Benares,  he  lost  no  time  in 
concluding  an  agreement  with  the  Nabob,  by  which  (in  consider- 
ation of  certain  measures  of  relief  to  his  dominions)  this  Prince 
was  bound  to  plunder  his  mother  and  grandmother  of  all  their 
property,  and  place  it  at  the  disposal  of  the  Governor-General. 
In  order  to  give  a color  of  justice  to  this  proceeding,  it  was*  pre- 
tended that  these  Princesses  had  taken  advantage  of  the  late  insur- 
rection at  Benare^  to  excite  a similar  spirit  of  revolt  in  Oude 
against  the  reigning  Nabob  and  the  English  government.  As 
I^aw  is  but  too  often,  in  such  cases,  the  ready  accomplice  of 
lyranny,  the  services  of  the  Chief  Justice,  Sir  Elijah  Impey, 
were  called  in  to  sustain  the  accusations;  and  the  wretched 
mockery  was  exhibited  of  a J udge  travelling  about  in  search  of 
evidence,!  for  the  express  purpose  of  proving  a charge,  upon 

* “ It  was  the  practice  of  Mr.  Hastings  (says  Burke,  in  his  fine  speech  on  Mr.  Pitt’s  In- 
dia Bill,  March  22,  1786  to  examine  the  country,  and  where  rer  he  ibicKl  money  to  a.1.x 
gui't.  A more  dreadful  fault  could  not  be  alleged  against  a native  than  that  he  was  rich.’’ 

I This  journey  of  the  Chief  Justice  ip  search  of  evidence  is  thps  happily  dcscrjUf^I  by 


KIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN. 


wnich  judgment  had  been  pronounced  and  punishment  decreed 
already. 

The  Nabob  himself,  though  sufficiently  ready  to  make  the 
wealth  of  those  venerable  ladies  occasionally  minister  to  his 
wants,  yet  shrunk  back,  with  natural  reluctance,  from  the  sum- 
mary  task  now  imposed  upon  him ; and  it  was  not  till  after  re- 
peated  and  peremptory  remonstrances  from  Mr.  Hastings,  that 
he  could  be  induced  to  put  himself  at  the  head  of  a body  of 
English  troops,  and  take  possession,  by  unresisted  force,  of  the 
town  and  palace  of  these  Princesses.  As  the  treasure,  however, 
was  still  secure  in  the  apartments  of  the  women, — that  circle, 
within  which  even  the  spirit  of  English  rapine  did  not  venture, 
— ^.an  expedient  was  adopted  to  get  over  this  inconvenient  deli- 
cacy. Two  aged  eunuchs  of  high  rank  and  distinction,  the  con- 
fidential agents  of  the  Begums,  were  thrown  into  prison,  and 
subjected  to  a course  of  starvation  and  torture,  by  which  it 
was  hoped  that  the  feelings  of  their  mistresses  might  be  worked 
upon,  and  a more  speedy  surrender  of  their  treasure  wrung  from 
them.  The  plan  succeeded  : — upwards  of  500,000/.  was  pro- 
cured to  recruit  the  finances  of  the  Company  ; and  thus,  accord- 
ing to  the  usual  course  of  British  power  in  India,  rapacity  but 
levied  its  contributions  in  one  quarter,  to  enable  war  to  pursue 
its  desolating  career  in  another. 

To  crown  all,  one  of  the  chief  articles  of  the  treaty,  by  which 
the  Nabob  was  reluctantly  induced  to  concur  in  these  atrocious 
measures,  was,  as  soon  as  the  object  had  been  gained,  infringed  by 
Mr.  Hastings,  who,  in  a letter  to  his  colleagues  in  the  government, 

Sheridan  in  the  Speech  : — “ When,  on  the  28th  of  November,  he  was  busied  at  Lucknow  on 
that  honorable  business,  and  when,  three  days  after,  he  was  found  at  Chunar,  at  the  dis- 
tance of  200  miles,  still  searching  for  affidavits,  and,  like  Hamlet’s  ghost,  exclaiming, 
‘Swear,’  his  progress  on  that  occasion  was  so  whimsically  rapid,  compared  with  tne 
gravity  of  his  employ,  that  an  observer  would  be  tempted  to  quote  again  from  the  same 
scene,  ‘Ha  ! Old  Truepenny,  canst  thou  mole  so  fast  i’  the  ground?’  Here,  however,  the 
comparison  ceased  ; for,  when  Sir  Elijah  made  his  visit  to  Lucknow  ‘to  whet  the  almost 
blunted  purpose’  of  the  Nabob,  his  language  was  wholly  diffi  rent  from  that  of  the  poet, 
— for  it  would  have  been  totally  against  his  purpose  to  have  said, 

‘ Taint  not  thy  mind,  nor  let  thy  soul  contrive 
Against  thy  mother  auglit.’  ” 


VOL,  II, 


10 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  QHE 


ilonestly  confesses  that  the  concession  of  t at  article  was  only  a 
frar'iauient  artifice  of  diplomacy,  and  never  intended  to  he  car- 
ried into  effect. 

Such  is  an  outline  of  the  case,  which,  with  all  its  aggravating 
details,  Mr.  Sheridan  had  to  state  in  these  two  memorable 
Speeches ; and  it  was  certainly  most  fortunate  for  the  display  of  his 
peculiar  powers,  that  this  should  be  the  Charge  confided  to  his  man- 
agement. For,  not  only  was  it  the  strongest,  and  susceptible  of 
the  highest  charge  of  coloring,  but  it  had  also  the  advantage  of 
grouping  together  all  the  principal  delinquents  of  the  trial,  and 
affording  a gradation  of  hue,  from  the  showy  and  prominent 
enormities  of  the  Governor-General  and  Sir  Elijah  Impey  in  the 
front  of  the  picture,  to  the  subordinate  and  half-tint  iniquity  of 
the  Middletons  and  Bristows  in  the  back-ground. 

Mr.  Burke,  it  appears,  had  at  first  reserved  this  grand  part  in 
the  drama  of  the  Impeachment  for  himself ; but,  finding  that 
Sheridan  had  also  fixed  his  mind  upon  it,  he,  without  hesitation, 
resigned  it  into  his  hands  ; thus  proving  the  sincerity  of  his  zeal 
in  the  cause,^  by  sacrificing  even  the  vanity  of  talent  to  its  suc- 
cess. 

The  following  letters  from  him,  relative  to  the  Impeachment, 
will  be  read  with  interest.  The  first  is  addressed  to  Mrs.  Sheri- 
dan, and  v/as  written,  I think,  early  in  the  proceedings ; the 
second  is  to  Sheridan  himself : — 

Madam, 

“ I am  sure  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  excuse  the  liberty  I take 
with  you,  when  you  consider  the  interest  which  I have  and  wFich 
the  Public  have  (the  said  Public  being,  at  least,  half  an  inch  a 
taller  person  than  I am)  in  the  use  of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  abilities. 
I know  that  his  mind  is  seldom  unemployed;  but  then,  like  all 

* Of  the  lengths  to  which  this  zeal  could  sometimes  carry  his  fancy  and  language, 
rather,  perhaps,  tlian  his  actual  feelings,  the  following  anecdote  is  a remarkable  proof. 

On  one  of  the  days  of  the  trial,  Lord , who  was  then  a boy,  having  been  introduced 

by  a relative  into  the  Manager’s  box,  Burke  said  to  him,  “I  am  glad  to  see  you  here — I 
shall  be  still  gladder  to  see  you  there — (pointing  to  the  Peers’  seats)  I liope  you  will  bj2 
in  at  Ute  death — I should  like  to  Hood  you,” 


RIGHT  TTON  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  11 


such  great  and  vigorous  minds,  it  takes  an  eagle  flight  h)  ts^^lf, 
and  we  can  hardly  bring  it  to  rustle  along  the  ground,  with  us 
birds  of  meaner  wing,  in  coveys.  I only  beg  that  you  wl'i  pre- 
vail on  Mr.  Sheridan  to  be  with  us  this  day,  at  half  after  tiiree, 
in  the  Committee.  Mr.  V/ombell,  the  Paymaster  ol‘  Oude,  is 
to  be  examined  there  to^ay.  Oude  is  Mr.  Sheridan’s  particular 
province  ; and  I do  most  seriously  ask  that  he  wmuld  favor  us  with 
his  assistance.  What  will  come  of  the  examination  I know  not ; 
but,  without  him,  I do  not  expect  a great  deal  from  it ; with  him, 
I fancy  we  may  get  out  something  material.  Once  more  let  me 
entreat  your  interest  with  Mr.  Sheridan  and  your  forgiveness  lOr 
being  troublesome  to  you,  and  do  me  the  justice  to  believe  me, 
with  the  most  sincere  respect, 

“ Madam,  your  most  obedient 

“ and  faithful  humble  Servant, 

“ Thursday^  9 o'clock.  “ Edm.  Burke.” 

“ My  dear  Sir, 

“You  have  only  to  wish  to  be  excused  to  succeed  in  your 
wishes ; for,  indeed,  he  must  be  a great  enemy  to  himself  who 
can  consent,  on  account  of  a momentary  ill-humor,  to  keep  him- 
self at  a distance  from  you. 

“ W ell,  all  will  turn  out  right, — and  half  of  you,  or  a quarter, 
is  worth  five  other  men.  I think  that  this  cause,  which  was 
originally  yours,  will  be  recognized  by  you,  and  that  you  will 
again  possess  yourself  of  it.  The  owner’s  mark  is  on  it,  and  all 
our  docking  and  cropping  cannot  hinder  its  being  knowm  and 
cherished  by  its  original  master.  My  most  humble  respects  to 
Mrs.  Sheridan.  I am  happy  to  find  that  she  takes  in  good  part 
the  liberty  I presumed  to  take  with  her.  Grey  has  done  much 
and  will  do  every  thing.  It  is  a pity  that  he  is  not  always  toned 
to  the  full  extent  of  his  talents. 

“ Most  truly  yoin's, 

“ Monday,  “ Edm,  Burke. 

“ I feel  a little  sickish  at  the  approaching  day.  I have  vmd 


/ 


12  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

much— too  much,  perhaps, — and,  in  truth,  am  but  poorly  pre- 
pared. Many  things,  too,  have  broken  in  upon  me.”"^ 

Though  a Report,  however  accurate,  must  always  do  injustice 
to  that  effective  kind  of  oratory  which  is  intended  rather  to  be 
heard  than  read,  and,  though  frequently ^he  passages  that  most 
roused  and  interested  the  hearer,  are  those  that  seem  afterwards 
the  tritest  and  least  animated  to  the  reader,]-  yet,  with  all  this 
disadvantage,  the  celebrated  oration  in  question  so  well  sustains 
its  reputation  in  the  perusal,  that  it  would  be  injustice,  having  an 
authentic  Report  in  my  possession,  not  to  produce  some  speci- 
mens of  its  style  and  spirit. 

In  the  course  of  his  exordium,  after  dwelling  upon  the  great 
importance  of  the  inquiry  in  which  they  were  engaged,  and  dis- 
claiming for  himself  and  his  brother-managers  any  feeling  of 
personal  malice  against  the  defendant,  or  any  motive  but  that  of 
retrieving  the  honor  of  the  British  name  in  India,  and  bringing 
down  punishment  upon  those  whose  inhumanity  and  injustice  had 
disgraced  it, — he  thus  proceeds  to  conciliate  the  Court  by  a warm 
tribute  to  the  purity  of  English  justice  : — 

‘‘  However,  when  I have  said  this,  I trust  Your  Lordships  will  not  be- 
lieve that,  because  something  is  necessary  to  retrieve  the  British  character, 
we  call  for  an  example  to  be  made,  without  due  and  solid  proof  of  the  guilt 
of  the  person  v/hom  we  pursue  : — no,  my  Lords,  we  know  well  that  it  is 
the  glory  of  this  Constitution,  that  not  the  general  fame  or  character  of  any 
man — not  the  weight  or  power  of  any  prosecutor — no  plea  of  moral  or 
political  expediency — not  even  the  secret  consciousness  of  guilt,  which 
may  live  in  the  bosom  of  the  Judge,  can  justify  any  British  Court  in  pass- 
ing any  sentence,  to  touch  a hair  of  the  head,  or  an  atom  in  any  respect 
of  the  property,  of  the  fame,  of  the  liberty  of  the  poorest  or  meanest  sub 
ject  that  breathes  the  air  of  this  just  and  free  land.  We  know,  my  Lords, 
tliat  there  can  be  no  legal  guilt  without  legal  proof,  and  that  the  riile 
vhich  defines  the  evidence  is  as  much  the  law  of  the  land  as  that  which 
creates  the  crime.  It  is  upon  that  ground  we  mean  to  stand.’’ 

* For  this  letter,  as  well  as  some  other  valuable  communications,  I am  indebted  to  tne 
kindness  of  Mr.  Burgess, — the  Solicitor  and  friend  of  Sheridan  during  the  last  twenty 
years  of  his  life 

f The  converse  assertion  is  almost  equally  true.  Mr.  Fox  used  to  ask  of  a printed 
speech,  “ Does  it  read  well?-’  and,  if  answered  in  tlie  affirmative,  said,  “ Then  it  was  ^ 
bad  speec^.” 


HIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  J3 


Among  those  ready  equivocations  and  disavowals,  to  which 
Mr.  Hastings  had  recourse  upon  every  emergency,  and  in  which 
practice  seems  to  have  rendered  him  as  shameless  as  expert,  the 
step  w'hich  he  took  with  regard  to  his  owm  defence  during  the 
trial  was  not  the  least  remarkable  for  promptness  and  audacity. 
He  had,  at  the  commencement  of  the  prosecution,  delivered  at 
the  bar  of  the  House  of  Commons,  as  his  own,  a written  refu- 
tation of  the  charges  then  pending  against  him  in  that  House, 
declaring  at  the  same  time,  that  “ if  truth  could  tend  to  convict 
him,  he  w^as  content  to  be,  himself,  the  channel  to  convey  it.” 
Afterwards,  however,  on  finding  that  he  had  committed  himself 
rather  imprudently  in  this  defence,  he  came  forward  to  disclaim 
it  at  the  bar  of  the  House  of  Lords,  and  brought  his  friend 
Major  Scott  to  prove  that  it  had  been  drawm  up  by  Messrs. 
Shore,  Middleton,  &c.  &c. — that  he  himself  had  not  even  seen  it, 
and  therefore  ought  not  to  be  held  accountable  for  its  contents. 
In  adverting  to  this  extraordinary  evasion,  Mr.  Sheridan  thus 
shrewdly  and  playfully  exposes  all  the  persons  concerned  in  it : — 

Major  Scott  comes  to  your  bar — describes  the  shortness  of  time — re- 
presents Mr.  Hastings  as  it  were  contracting  for  a character — putting  his 
memory  into  commission — making  departments  for  his^onscience.  A num- 
ber of  friends  meet  together,  and  he,  knowing  (no  doubt)  that  the  accusa- 
tion of  the  Commons  had  been  drawn  up  by  a Committee,  thought  it  ne- 
cessary, as  a point  of  punctilio,  to  answer  it  by  a Committee  also.  One  fur- 
nishes the  raw  material  of  fact,  the  second  spins  the  argument,  and  the 
third  twines  up  the  conclusion  ; while  Mr.  Hastings,  with  a master’s  eye, 
is  cheering  and  looking  over  this  loom.  He  says  to  one,  ‘ You  have  got  my 
good  faith  in  your  hands — you,  my  veracity  to  manage.  Mr.  Shore,  I hope 
you  will  make  me  a good  financier — Mr.  Middleton,  you  have  my  humanity 
in  commission.’ — When  it  is  done,  he  brings  it  to  the  House  of  Commons, 
and  says,  ‘ I was  equal  to  the  task.  I knew  the  difficulties,  but  I scorn 
them  : here  is  the  truth,  and  if  the  truth  will  convict  me,  I am  content  my- 
self to  be  the  channel  of  it.’  His  friends  hold  up  their  heads,  and  say,  ‘ Vv  hat 
noble  magnanimity  ! This  must  be  the  effect  of  conscious  and  real  inno- 
cence.’ Well,  it  is  so  received,  it  is  so  argued  upon, — but  it  fails  of  its 
effect. 

Then  says  Mr.  Hastings, — ‘ That  my  defence ! no,  mere  journeyman- 
work, — good  enough  for  the  Commons,  but  not  fit  for  Your  Lordships’  con- 
sideration.’ He  then  calls  upon  his  Counsel  to  save  him  : — • I fear  none  of 


14 


MEMOIRS  OE  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


my  accusers’  witnesses — T know  some  of  them  well — I know  the  weakness 
ot  their  memory,  and  the  strength  of  their  attachment— I fear  no  testi- 
mony but  my  own — save  me  from  the  peril  of  my  own  panegyric — preserve 
me  from  that,  and  I shall  be  safe.’  Then  is  this  plea  brought  to  Your  Lord- 
ships’  bar,  and  Major  Scott  gravely  asserts, — that  Mr.  Hastings  did,  at  the 
bar  of  the  House  of  Commons,  vouch  for  facts  of  which  he  was  ignorant, 
and  for  arguments  which  he  had  never  read. 

‘‘  After  such  an  attempt,  w^'e  certainly  are  left  in  doubt  to  decide,  io  which 
set  of  his  friends  Mr.  Hastings  is  least  obliged,  those  who  assisted  him  in 
making  his  defence,  or  those  who  advised  him  to  deny  it.” 

He  thus  describes  the  feelings  of  the  people  of  the  East  with 
respect  to  the  unapproachable  sanctity  of  their  Zenanas  : — 

“ It  is  too  much,  I am  afraid,  the  case,  that  persons,  used  to  European 
manners,  do  not  take  up  these  sort  of  considerations  at  first  with  the  se- 
riousness that  is  necessary.  For  Your  Lordships  cannot  even  learn  the 
right  nature  of  those  people’s  feelings  and  prejudices  from  any  history  of 
other  Mahometan  countries,— -not  even  from  that  of  the  Turks,  for  they 
are  a mean  and  degraded  race  in  comparison  with  many  of  these  great 
families,  wbo,  inheriting  from  their  Persian  ancestors,  preserve  a purer 
style  of  prejudice  and  a loftier  superstition.  Women  there  are  not  as  in 
Turkey — they  neither  go  to  the  mosque  nor  to  the  bath — it  is  not  the  thin 
veil  alone  that  hides  them — but  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  their  Zenana  they 
are  kept  from  public  view  by  those  reverenced  and  protected  w^alls,  which, 
as  Mr.  Hastings  and  Sir  Elijah  Tmpey  admit,  are  held  sacred  even  by  the 
ruffian  hand  of  war  or  by  the  more  uncourteous  hand  of  the  law.  But,  in 
this  situation,  they  are  not  confined  from  a mean  and  selfish  policy  of  man 
— not  from  a coarse  and  sensual  jealousy — enshrined  rather  than  immured, 
their  habitation  and  retreat  is  a sanctuary,  not  a prison — their  jealousy  is 
their  own — a jealousy  of  their  owm  honor,  that  leads  them  to  regard  liberty 
as  a degradation,  and  the  gaze  of  even  admiring  eyes  as  inexpiable  pollu- 
tion to  the  purity  of  their  fame  and  the  sanctity  of  their  honor. 

Such  being  the  general  opinion  (or  prejudices,  let  them  be  called)  of 
this  country.  Your  Lordships  will  find,  that  whatever  treasures  were  given 
or  lodged  in  a Zenana  of  this  description  must,  upon  the  evidence  of  the 
thing  itself,  be  placed  beyond  the  reach  of  resumption.  To  dispute  with 
the  Counsel  about  the  original  right  to  those  treasures — to  talk  of  a title  to 
them  by  the  Mahometan  law  ! — their  title  to  them  is  the  title  of  a Saint  to 
the  relics  upon  an  altar,  placed  there  by  Piety,*  guarded  by  holy  Super- 
stitVm,  and  to  be  snatched  from  thence  only  by  Sacrilege.” 

♦ This  metaphor  was  rather  roughly  handled  afterwards  (1794)  by  Mr.  Law.  ope  of  tlie 
adverse  Counse.,  who  asked,  how  could  the  Begum  be  considered  as  “a Saint,”  or  how 


HIGHT  HOK.  RICHARD  BKIHSLEY  SHEPwlDAN. 


5 


In  showing  that  the  Nabob  was  driven  to  this  robbery  of  hi.i 
lelatives  by  other  considerations  than  those  of  the  pretended  re- 
bellion, which  was  afterwards  conjured^  up  by  Mr.  Hastings  to 
justify  it,  he  says, — 

“ The  fact  is,  that  througn  all  his  defences — through  all  his  various  false 
suggestions — through  all  these  various  rebellions  and  disaffections,  Mr. 
Hastings  never  once  lets  go  this  plea — of  extinguishable  right  in  the  Na- 
bob. He  constantly  represents  the  seizing  the  treasures  as  a resumption  of 
a right  which  he  could  not  part  with  ; — as  if  there  were  literally  something 
in  the  Koran,  that  made  it  criminal  in  a true  Mussulman  to  keep  his  en- 
gagements with  his  relations,  and  impious  in  a son  to  abstain  from  plunder- 
ing his-mother.  I do  gravely  assure  your 'Lordships  that  there  is  no  such 
doctrine  in  the  Koran,  and  no  such  principle  makes  a part  in  the  civil  or 
municipal  jurisprudence  of  that  country.  Even  after  these  Princesses  had 
been  endeavoring  to  dethrone  the  Nabob  and  to  extirpate  the  English,  the 
only  plea  the  Nabob  ever  makes,  is  his  right  under  the  Mahometan  law  ; 
and  the  truth  is,  he  appears  never  to  have  heard  any  other  reason,  and  I 
pledge  myself  to  make  it  appear  to  Your  Lordships,  however  extraordinary 
it  may  be,  that  not  only  had  the  Nabob  never  heard  of  the  rebellion  till  the 
moment  of  seizing  the  palace,  but,  still  further,  that  he  never  heard  of  it 
at  all ; — that  this  extraordinary  rebellion,  which  was  as  notorious  as  the  re- 
bellion of  1745  in  London,  was  carefully  concealed  from  those  two  parties 
—the  Begums  who  plotted  it,  and  the  Nabob  who  was  to  be  the  victim  of  it. 

“ The  existence  of  this  rebellion  was  not  the  secret,  but  the  notoriety  of 
It  was  the  ^cret ; it  was  a rebellion  which  had  for  its  object  the  destruction 
of  no  human  creature  but  those  who  planned  it ; — it  was  a rebellion  which, 
according  to  Mr.  Middleton’s  expression,  no  man,  either  horse  or  foot,  ever 
• marched  to  quell.  The  Chief  Justice  was  the  only  man  who  took  the  held 
against  it, — the  force  against  which  it  was  raised,  instantly  withdrew  to 
give  it  elbow-room, — and,  even  then,  it  was  a rebellion  which  perversely 
showed  itself  in  acts  of  hospitality  to  the  Nabob  whom  it  was  to  dethrone, 
and  to  the  English  whom  it  was  to  extirpate  ; — it  was  a rebellion  plotted 
by  two  feeble  old  women,  headed  by  two  eunuchs,  and  suppressed  by  an 
affidavit.” 

The  acceptance,  or  rather  exaction,  of  the  private  present  jf 
£100,000  is  thus  animadverted  upon: 

Wfire  the  camels,  which  formed  part  of  the  treasure,  to  be  “placed  upon  the  altar  '' 
Siieridan,  in  reply,  said,  “It  was  the  first  lime  in  his  life  he  had  ever  heard  of  special 
'pleading  on  a metaphor^  or  a bill  of  indictment  against  a trope.  But  such  was  the  turn  of 
the  learned  Counsel’s  mind,  that,  when  he  attempted^  to  be  humorous,  no  jest  could  df 
founu,  and,  when  serious,  no  fact  was  visible.’^ 


16 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


“ ^ly  Lords,  siicli  was  the  distressed  situation  of  the  Nabob  about  a 
twelvemonth  before  Mr.  Hastings  met  him  at  Chunar.  It  Avas  a twelve- 
month,  I say,  after  this  miserable  scene — a mighty  period  in  the  progress 
of  British  rapacity — it  was  (if  the  Counsel  will)  after  some  natural  calami- 
ties had  aided  the  superior  vigor  of  British  violence  and  rapacity — it  was 
after  the  country  had  felt  other  calamities  besides  the  English — it  was  after 
the  angry  dispensations  of  Providence  had,  with  a progressive  severity 
of  chastisement,  visited  the  land  with  a famine  one  year,  and  with  a Col. 
Hannay  the  next — it  was  after  he,  this  Hannay,  had  returned  to  retrace  the 
steps  of  his  former  ravages — it  was  after  he  and  his  voracious  crew  had 
come  to  plunder  ruins  which  himself  had  made,  and  to  glean  from  desola- 
tion the  little  that  famine  had  spared,  or  rapine  overlooked  ; — then  it  was 
that  this  miserable  bankrupt  prince  marching  through  his  country,  besieged 
by  the  clamors  of  his  starving  subjects,  who  cried  to  him  for  protection 
through  their  cages — meeting  the  curses  of  some  of  his  subjects,  and  the 
prayers  of  others — with  famine  at  his  heels,  and  reproach  following  him, — 
then  it  was  that  this  Prince  is  represented  as  exercising  this  act  of  prodigal 
bounty  to  the  very  man  whom  he  here  reproaches — to  the  very  man  whose 
policy  had  extinguished  his  power,  and  whose  creatures  had  desolated  his 
country.  To  talk  of  a free-will  gift ! it  is  audacious  and  ridiculous  to  name 
the  supposition.  It  was  not  a free-will  gift.  What  \vas  it  then?  was  it  a 
bribe  ? or  was  it  extortion  ? I shall  prove  it  w'as  both — it  was  an  act  of 
gross  bribery  and  of  rank  extortion.’’ 

Again  he  thus  adverts  to  this  present : — 

‘‘  The  first  thing  he  does  is,  to  leave  Calcutta,  in  order  to  go  to  the  re- 
lief of  the  distressed  Nabob.  The  second  thing,  is  to  take  100,000^.  from 
that  distressed  Nabob  on  account  of  the  distressed  Company.  And  the  third 
thing  is  to  ask  of  the  distressed  Company  this  very  same  sum  on  account 
of  the  distresses  of  Mr.  Hastings.  There  never  were  three  distresses  that 
seemed  so  little  reconcilable  with  one  another.” 

Anticipating  the  plea  of  state-necessity,  which  might  possibly 
be  set  up  in  defence  of  the  measures  of  the  Governor-General, 
he  breaks  out  into  the  following  rhetorical  passage" : — 

State  necessity  ! no,  my  Lords  ; that  imperial  tyrant.  State  Necessity, 
is  yet  a generous  despot, — bold  is  his  demeanor,  rapid  his  decisions,  and 
te^idble  his  grasp.  But  what  he  does,  my  Lords,  he  dares  avow,  and  avow- 
ing, scorns  any  other  justification,  than  the  great  motives  that  placed  the 
iron  sceptre  in  his  hand.  But  a quibbling,  pilfering,  prevaricating  State- 
Necessity,  that  tries  to  skulk  behind  the  skirts  of  Justice  ; — a State-Neces- 
sity that  tries  to  steal  a pitiful  justification  from  whispered  accusations  and 


mom  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN. 


fabricated  rumors.  No.  my  Lords,  that  is  no  State  Necessity  ;~tear  off  the 
mask,  and  you  see  coarse,  vulgar  avarice, — you  see  speculation,  lurking 
under  the  gaudy  disguise,  and  adding  the  guilt  of  libelling  the  public 
honor  to  its  own  prh  ate  fraud. 

My  Lords,  I say  this,  because  I am  sure  the  Managers  would  make 
every  allowance  that  state-necessity  could  claim  upon  any  great  emergen- 
cy. If  any  great  man  in  bea-ring  the  arms  of  this  country  ; — if  any  Ad- 
miral, bearing  the  vengeance  and  the  glory  of  Britain  to  distant  coasts, 
should  be  compelled  to  some  rash  acts  of  violence,  in  order,  perhaps,  to 
give  food  to  those  w^ho  are  shedding  their  blood  for  Britain  ; — if  any  great 
General,  defending  some  fortress,  barren  itself,  perhaps,  but  a pledge  of  the 
pride,  and,  with  the  pride,  of  the  power  of  Britain  ; if  such  a man  were  tc 
* * * while  he  himself  was  * * at  the  top,  like  an 

eagle  besieged  in  its  imperial  nest  ;* — would  the  Commons  of  England  come 
to  accuse  or  to  arraign  such  acts  of  state-necessity  ? No.^^ 

In  describing  that  swarm  of  English  pensioners  and  placemen, 
whp  were  still,  in  violation  of  the  late  purchased  treaty,  left  to 
prey  on  the  finances  of  the  Nabob,  he  says, — 

Here  we  find  they  were  left,  as  heavy  a weight  upon  the  Nabob  as  ever, 
— left  there  with  as  keen  an  appetite,  though  not  so  clamorous.  They  were 
reclining  on  the  roots  and  shades  of  that  spacious  tree,  which  their  prede- 
cessors had  stripped  branch  and  bough — watching  with  eager  eyes  the  first 
budding  of  a future  prosperity,  and  of  the  opening  harvest  which  they  con- 
sidered as  the  prey  of  their  perseverance  and  rapacity.” 

We  have  in  the  close  of  the  following  passage,  a specimen  of 
that  lofty  style,  in  which,  as  if  under  the  influence  of  Eastern 
associations,  almost  all  the  Managers  of  this  Trial  occasionally 
indulged  :f — 

* The  Reporter,  at  many  of  these  passages,  seems  to  have  thrown  aside  his  pen  in 
despair. 

I Much  of  tliis,  however,  is  to  be  set  down  to  the  gratuitous  bombast  of  the  Reporter. 
Mr.  Fox,  for  instance,  is  made  to  say,  “Yes,  my  Lords,  happy  is  it  for  the  world,  that  the 
penetrating  gaze  of  Providence  searches  after  man,  and  in  the  dark  den  where  he  has 
stifled  the  remonstrances  of  conscience  darts  his  compulsatory  ray,  that,  bursting  the  se- 
crecy of  guilt,  drives  the  criminal  frantic  to  confession  and  expiation.”  History  of 
Trial. — Even  one  of  the  Counsel,  Mr.  Dalla.«,  is  represented  as  having  caught  tliis  Oriental 
contagion,  to  such  a degeee  as  to  express  himself  in  the  following  manner  : — “ We  are 
now,  however,  (said  the  Counsel,)  advancing  from  the  star-light  of  Circumstance  to  the 
day-light  of  Discovery  : the  sun  of  Certainly  is  melting  the  darkness,  and — we  are  ar 
rived  at  facts  admitted  by  both  parties  1” 


i§ 


MEMOtliS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


‘‘  T do  not  mean  to  say  that  Mr.  Middleton  had  direct  instructions  froin 
Mr  Hastings. — that  he  told  him  to  go,  and  give  that  fallacious  assurance 
to  the  Nabob, — that  he  had  that  ordiQV  under  his  hand.  No — but  in  looking 
attentively  over  Mr.  Middleton's  correspondence,  you  will  find  him  say, 
upon  a more  important  occasion,  ‘ I don’t  expect  your  public  authority  for 
this  ; — it  is  enough  if  you  but  hint  your  pleasure.’  He  knew  him  well ; he 
could  interpret  every  nod  and  motion  of  that  head ; he  understood  the 
glances  of  that  eye  which  sealed  the  perdition  of  nations,  and  at  whose 
throne  Princes  waited,  in  pale  expectation,  for  their  fortune  or  their  doom.’^ 

The  following  is  one  of  those  labored  passages,  of  which  the 
orator  himself  was  perhaps  most  proud,  but  in  which  the  effort 
to  be  eloquent  is  too  visible,  and  the  effect,  accordingly,  falls 
short  of  the  pretension: — 

You  see  how  Truth — empowered  by  that  will  which  gives  a giant’s 
nerve  to  an  infant’s  arm — has  burst  the  monstrous  mass  of  fraud  that  has 
endeavored  to  suppress  it. — It  calls  now  to  Your  Lordships,  in  the  weak 
but  clear  tone  of  that  Cherub,  Innocence,  whose  voice  is  more  persuasive 
than  eloquence,  more  convincing  than  argument,  whose  look  is  supplica- 
tion, whose  tone  is  conviction, — it  calls  upon  you  for  redress,  it  calls  upon 
you  for  vengeance  upon  the  oppressor,  and  points  its  heave  .i-directed  hand 
to  the  detested,  but  unrepenting  author  of  its  wrongs !” 

His  description  of  the  desolation  brought  upon  some  provinces 
of  Oude  by  the  misgovernment  of  Colonel  Ilann  y,  and  of  the 
insurrection  at  Goruckpore  against  that  officer  in  consequence,  is, 
perhaps,  the  most  masterly  portion  of  the  whole  speech : — 

If  we  could  suppose  a person  to  have  come  suddenly  into  the  country 
unacquainted  with  any  circumstances  that  had  passed  since  the  clays  of 
Sujah  ul  Dowlah,  he  would  naturally  ask — what  cruel  hand  has  wrought 
this  wide  desolation,  v/hat  barbarian  foe  has  invaded  the  country,  has  deso- 
lated its  fields,  depopulated  its  villages?  He  would  ask,  what  disputed 
succession,  civil  rage,  or  frenzy  of  the  inhabitants,  had  induced  them  to 
act  in  hostility  to  the  words  of  God,  and  the  beauteous  works  of  man  ? 
He  would  ask  what  religious  zeal  or  frenzy  had  added  to  the  mad  despair 
and  horrors  of  war  ? The  ruin  is  unlike  any  thing  that  appears  recorded 
in  any  age  ; it  looks  like  neither  the  barbarities  of  men,  nor  the  judgments 
of  vindictive  heaven.  There  is  a waste  of  desolation,  as  if  caused  by  fell 
destroyers,  never  meaning  to  return  and  making  but  a short  period  of  their 
rapacity.  It  looks  as  if  some  fabled  monster  had  made  its  passage  through 
the  country,  whose  pestiferous  breath  had  blasted  more  than  its  voracious 
appetite  could  devour.” 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRI3STSLEY  SHERIDAN.  10 


there  had  been  any  men  in  the  country,  who  had  not  their  heaita 
and  souls  so  subdued  by  fear,  as  to  refuse  to  speak  the  truth  at  alJ  upon 
such  a subject,  they  would  have  told  him,  there  had  been  no  war  since 
the  time  of  Sujah  ul  Dowlah, — tyrant,  indeed,  as  he  was,  but  then  deeply 
regretted  by  his  subjects — that  no  hostile  blow  of  any  enemy  had  been 
struck  in  that  land — that  there  had  been  no  disputed  succession — no  civil 
war — no  religious  frenzy.  But  that  these  were  the  tokens  of  British  friend- 
ship, the  marks  left  by  the  embraces  of  British  allies — more  dreadful  than 
the  blows  of  the  bitterest  enemy.  They  would  tell  him  that  these  allies 
had  converted  a prince  into  a slave,  to  make  him  the  principal  in  the  ex- 
tortion upon  his  subjects  ; — that  their  rapacity  increased  in  proportion  as 
the  means  of  supplying  their  avarice  diminished  ; that  they  made  the  sove- 
reign pay  as  if  they  had  a right  to  an  increased  price,  because  the  labor 
of  extortion  and  plunder  increased.  To  such  causes,  they  would  tell  him. 
these  calamities  were  owing. 

‘‘Need  I refer  Your  Lordships  to  the  strong  testimony  of  Major  Naylor 
when  he  rescued  Colonel  Hannay  from  their  hands — where  you  see  that 
this  people,  born  to  submission  and  bent  to  mo^t  abject  subjection — that 
even  they,  in  whose  meek  hearts  injury  had  never  yet  begot  resentment, 
nor  even  despair  bred  courage — that  their  hatred,  their  abhorrence  of 
Colonel  Hannay  was  such  that  they  clung  round  him  by  thousands  and 
thousands  * — that  when  Major  Naylor  rescued  him,  they  refused  life  from 
the  hand  that  could  rescue  Hannay  ; — that  they  nourished  this  desperate 
consolation,  that  by  their  death  they  should  at  least  thin  the  number  of 
wretches  who  suffered  by  his  devastation  and  extortion.  He  says  that, 
when  he  crossed  the  river,  he  found  the  poor  wretches  quivering  upon 
the  parched  banks  of  the  polluted  river,  encouraging  their  blood  to  flow, 
and  consoling  themselves  with  the  thought,  that  it  would  not  sink  into  the 
earth,  but  rise  to  the  common  God  of  humanity,  and  cry  aloud  for  vengeance 
on  their  destroyers ! — This  warm  description — which  is  no  declamation  of 
mine,  but  founded  in  actual  fact,  and  in  fair,  clear  proof  before  Your  Lord- 
ships — speaks  powerfully  what  the  cause  of  these  oppressions  were,  and 
the  perfect  justness  of  those  feelings  that  were  occasioned  by  them.  And 
yet.  my  Lords,  I am  asked  to  prove  why  these  people  arose  in  such  con- 
cert : — ' there  must  have  been  machinations,  forsooth,  and  the  Begums’ 
machinations,  to  produce  all  this  !’ — Why  did  they  rise ! — Because  they 
were  people  in  human  shape  ; because  patience  under  the  detested  tyran- 
ny of  man  is  rebellion  to  the  sovereignty  of  God  ; because  allegiance  to 
that  Power  that  gives  us  the /orms  of  men  commands  us  to  maintain  the 
riahtfs  of  men.  And  never  yet  was  this  truth  dismissed  from  the  human 
heart — never  in  any  time,  in  any  age — never  in  any  clime,  where  rude  man 
ever  nad  any  social  feeling,  or  where  corrupt  refinement  had  subdued  all 


20 


Memoirs  of  the  life  of  the 


feelinge, — never  was  this  one  unextinguishable  truth  destrojed  from  the 
heart  of  man,  placed  as  it  is,  in  the  core  and  centre  of  it  by  his  Maker, 
that  man  was  not  made  the  property  of  man  ; that  human  power  is  a trust 
for  human  benefit ; and  that  when  it  is  abused,  revenge  becomes  justice, 
if  not  the  bounden  duty  of  the  injured ! These,  my  Lords,  were  the  causes 
why  these  people  rosed’ 

Another  passage  in  the  second  day’s  speech  is  remarkable,  as 
exhibiting  a sort  of  tourney  of  intellect  between  Sheridan  and 
Burke,  and  in  that  field  of  abstract  speculation,  which  was  the  fa- 
vorite arena  of  the  latter.  Mr.  Burke  had,  in  opening  the  prose- 
cution, remarked,  that  prudence  is  a quality  incompatible  vdth 
vice,  and  can  never  be  effectively  enlisted  in  its  cause : — “I  never 
(said  he)  knew  a man  who  was  bad,  fit  for  service  that  was  good. 
There  is  always  some  disqualifying  ingredient,  mixing  and  spoil- 
ing the  compound.  The  man  seems  paralytic  on  that  side,  his 
muscles  there  have  lost  their  very  tone  and  character — they  can- 
not move.  In  short,  the  accomplishment  of  any  thing  good  is  a 
physical  impossibility  for  such  a man.  There  is  decrepitude  as 
well  as  distortion : he  could  not,  if  he  would,  is  not  more  cer- 
tain than  that  he  would  not,  If  he  could.”  To  this  sentiment  the 
allusions  in  the  following  passage  refer : — 

I am  perfectly  convinced  that  there  is  one  idea,  which  must  arise  in 
Your  Lordships’  minds  as  a subject  of  wonder, — how  a person  of  Mr.  Has- 
tings’ reputed  abilities  can  furnish  such  matter  of  accusation  against  him- 
self. For,  it  must  be  admitted  that  never  was  there  a person  who  seems 
to  go  so  rashly  to  work,  with  such  an  arrogant  appearance  of  contempt  for 
all  conclusions,  that  may  be  deduced  from  what  he  advances  upon  the 
subject.  When  he  seems  most  earnest  and  laborious  to  defend  himself, 
it  appears  as  if  he  had  but  one  idea  uppermost  in  his  mind — a determina- 
tion not  to  care  what  he  says,  provided  he  keeps  clear  of  fact.  He  knows 
that  truth  must  convict  him,  and  concludes,  d converso,  that  falsehood  will 
acquit  h'm  ; forgetting  that  there  must  be  some  connection,  some  system, 
some  co-operation,  or,  otherwise,  his  host  of  falsities  fall  without  an  enemy, 
self-discomfited  and  destroyed.  But  of  this  he  never  seems  to  have  had 
the  slightest  apprehension.  He  falls  to  work,  an  artificer  of  fraud,  against 
all  the  rules  of  architeciiire  ; — he  lays  his  ornamental  work  first,  and  his 
massy  foundation  at  the  top  of  it ; and  thus  iiis  whole  building  tumbles 
upon  his  head.  Other  people  look  well  to  their  ground,  choose  their  posi- 
tion, and  watch  whether  they  are  likely  to  be  surprised  there  ; but  he,  as 


EIGHT  HON.  KICHABD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  21 


if  in  the  ostentation  of  his  heart,  builds  upon  a precipice,  and  encamps 
upon  a mine,  from  choice.  He  seems  to  have  no  one  actuating  principle, 
but  a steady,  persevering  resolution  not  to  speak  the  truth  or  to  tell  the 
fact. 

It  is  impossible  almost  to  treat  conduct  of  this  kind  with  perfect  seri- 
ousness ; yet  I am  aware  that  it  ought  to  be  more  seriously  accounted  for 
— because  I am  sure  it  has  been  a scrt  of  paradox,  which  must  have  struck 
Your  Lordships,  how  any  person  having  so  many  motives  to  conceal — 
having  so  many  reasons  to  dread  detection  —should  yet  go  to  work  so 
clumsily  upon  the  subject.  It  is  possible,  indeed,  that  it  may  raise  this 
doubt — whether  such  a person  is  of  sound  mind  enough  to  be  a proper 
object  of  punishment ; or  at  least  it  may  give  a kind  of  confused  notion, 
that  the  guilt  cannot  be  of  so  deep  and  black  a grain,  over  which  such  a 
thin  veil  was  thrown,  and  so  little  trouble  taken  to  avoid  detection.  I am 
aware  that,  to  account  for  this  seeming  paradox,  historians,  poets,  and 
even  philosophers — at  least  of  ancient  times— have  adopted  the  supersti- 
tious solution  of  the  vulgar,  and  said  that  the  gods  deprive  men  of  reason 
whom  they  devote  to  destruction  or  to  punishment.  But  to  unassuming 
or  unprejudiced  reason,  there  is  no  need  to  resort  to  any  supposed  super- 
natural interference  ; for  the  solution  will  be  found  in  the  eternal  rule? 
that  formed  the  mind  of  man,  and  gave  a quality  and  nature  to  every  pas* 
sion  that  inhabits  in  it. 

“ An  Honorable  friend  of  mine,  who  is  now,  I believe,  near  me, — a gen- 
tleman, to  whom  I never  can  on  any  occasion  refer  without  feelings  of  res- 
pect, and,  on  this  subject,  without  feelings  of  the  most  grateful  homage  ; 
— a gentleman,  whose  abilities  upon  this  occasion,  as  upon  some  former 
ones,  happily  for  the  glory  of  the  age  in  which  we  live,  are  not  entrusted 
merely  to  the  perishable  eloquence  of  the  day,  but  will  live  to  be  the  ad- 
miration of  that  hour  when  all  of  us  are  mute,  and  most  of  us  forgotten  ; — 
that  Honorable  gentleman  has  told  you  that  Prudence,  the  first  of  virtues, 
never  can  be  used  in  the  cause  of  vice.  If,  reluctant  and  diffident,  I might 
take  such  a liberty,  I should  express  a doubt,  whether  experience,  obser- 
vation, or  history,  will  warrant  us  in  fully  assenting  to  this  observation.  It 
is  a noble  and  a lovely  sentiment,  my  Lords,  worthy  the  mind  of  him  who 
uttered  it,  worthy  that  proud  disdain,  that  generous  scorn  of  the  means  and 
instruments  of  vice,  which  virtue  and  genius  must  ever  feel.  But  I should 
doubt  whether  w^e  can  read  the  history  of  a Philip  of  Macedon,  a Csesar,  or 
a Cromwell,  without  confessing,  that  there  have  been  evil  purposes,  bane- 
ful to  the  peace  and  to  the  rights  of  men,  conducted — if  I may  not  say,  wdth 
prudence  or  wdth  wisdom— yet  with  awful  craft  and  most  successful  and 
commanding  subtlety.  If,  however,  I might  make  a distinction,  I should 
bay  that  it  is  the  proud  attempt  to  mix  a variety  of  lordly  crimes,  that  un- 
settles the  prudence  of  the  mind,  and  breeds  this  distraction  of  roe  brain. 


22 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


One  master-passion,  domineering  in  the  breast,  may  win  the  faculties  of 
the  understanding  to  advance  its  purpose,  and  to  direct  to  that  object  every 
thing  that  thought  or  human  knowledge  can  effect ; but,  to  succeed,  it  must 
maintain  a solitary  despotism  in  the  mind  ; — each  rival  profligacy  must 
stand  aloof,  or  wait  in  abject  vassalage  upon  its  throne.  For,  the  Power, 
that  has  not  forbad  the  entrance  of  evil  passions  into  man’s  mind,  has,  at 
least,  forbad  their  union  ; — if  they  meet  they  defeat  their  object,  and  their 
conquest,  or  their  attempt  at  it,  is  tumult.  Turn  to  the  Virtues — how  dif- 
ferent the  decree ! Formed  to  connect,  to  blend,  to  associate,  and  to  co- 
operate ; bearing  the  same  course,  with  kindred  energies  and  harmonious 
sympathy,  each  perfect  in  its  own  lovely  sphere,  each  moving  in  its  wider 
or  more  contracted  orbit,  with  diflerent,  but  concentering,  powers,  guided 
by  the  same  influence  of  reason,  and  endeavoring  at  the  same  blessed  end 
— the  happiness  of  the  individual,  the  harmony  of  the  species,  and  the  glory 
of  the  Creator.  In  the  Vices,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  the  discord  that  in- 
sures the  defeat — each  clamors  to  be  heard  in  its  own  barbarous  language  ; 
each  claims  the  exclusive  cunning  of  the  brain  ; each  thwarts  and  reproaches 
the  other ; and  even  while  their  fell  rage  assails  with  common  hate  the 
peace  and  virtue  of  the  world,  the  civil  war  among  their  own  tumultuous 
legions  defeats  the  purpose  of  the  foul  conspiracy.  These  are  the  Furies 
of  the  mind,  my  Lords,  that  unsettle  the  understanding  ; these  are  the 
Furies,  that  destroy  the  virtue.  Prudence, — while  the  distracted  brain  and 
shivered  intellect  proclaim  the  tumult  that  is  within,  and  bear  their  testi- 
monies, from  the  mouth  of  God  himself,  to  the  foul  condition  of  the  heart” 

The  part  of  the  Speech  which  occupied  the  Third  Day  (and 
which  was  interrupted  by  the  sudden  indisposition  of  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan) consists  chiefly  of  comments  upon  the  affidavits  taken  be- 
fore Sir  Elijah  Impey, — in  which  the  irrelevance  and  inconsist- 
ency of  these  documents  is  shrewdly  exposed,  and  the  dryness 
of  detail,  inseparable  from  such  a task,  enlivened  by  those  light 
touches  of  conversational  humor,  and  all  that  by-play  of  elo- 
quence of  which  Mr.  Sheridan  was  such  a consummate  master. 
But  it  was  on  the  Fourth  Day  of  the  oration  that  he  rose  into 
his  most  ambitious  flights,  and  produced  some  of  those  dazzling 
bursts  of  declamation,  of  which  the  traditional  fa^e  is  most  viv- 
idly preserved.  Among  the  audience  of  that  day  was  Gibbon, 
and  the  mention  of  his  name  in  the  following  passage  not  only 
produced  its  effect  at  the  moment,  but,  as  connected  with  literary 
anecdote,  will  make  the  passage  itself  long  memorable.  Poli- 


^ EIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  23 


tics  are  of  the  day,  but  literature  is  of  all  time — and,  though  it 
was  in  the  power  of  the  orator,  in  his  brief  moment  of  triumph, 
to  throw  a lustre  over  the  historian  by  a passing  epithet,"^  the 
name  of  the  latter  will,  at  the  long  run,  pay  back  the  honor  with 
interest.  Having  reprobated  the  violence  and  perfidy  of  the 
Governor-General,  in  forcing  the  Nabob  to  plunder  his  owm  re- 
latives and  friends,  he  adds : — 

“ I do  say,  that  if  you  search  the  history  of  the  world,  you  will  not  find 
an  act  of  tyranny  and  fraud  to  surpass  this  ; if  you  read  all  past  histories, 
peruse  the  Annals  of  Tacitus,  read  the  luminous  page  of  Gibbon,  and  all 
the  ancient  and  modern  writers,'  that  have  searched  into  the  depravity  of 
former  ages  to  draw  a lesson  for  the  present,  you  will  not  find  dn.  act  of 
treacherous,  deliberate,  cool  cruelty  that  could  exceed  this.’’ 

On  being  asked  by  some  honest  brother  Whig,  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  Speech,  how  he  came  to  compliment  Gibbon  with 
the  epithet  luminous,”  Sheridan  answered  in  a half  whisper,  “ I 
said  ‘ i^oluminous.’  ” 

It  is  well  known  that  the  simile  of  the  vulture  and  the  lamb, 
which  occurs  in  the  address  of  Rolla  to  the  Peruvians,  had  been 
previously  employed  by  Mr.  Sheridan,  in  this  speech ; and  it 
showed  a degree  of  indifference  to  criticism, — which  criticism, 
it  must  be  owned,  not  unfrequently  deserves, — to  reproduce  be- 
fore the  public  an  image,  so  notorious  both  from  its  application 
and  its  success.  But,  called  upon,  as  he  was,  to  levy,  for  the  use 
of  that  Drama,  a hasty  conscription  of  phrases  and  images,  af 
of  a certain  altitude  and  pomp,  this  veteran  simile,  he  thought, 
might  be  pressed  into  the  service  among  the  rest.  The  passage 
of  the  Speech  in  which  it  occurs  is  left  imperfect  in  the  Re- 
port : — 

‘‘  This  is  the  character  of  all  the  protection  ever  afforded  to  the  allies  of 
Britain  under  the  government  of  Mr.  Hastings.  They  send  their  troops  to 

* Gibbon  himself  thought  it  an  event  worthy  of  record  in  his  Memoirs.  “ Before  my  de- 
parture from  England  (he  says),  I was  present  at  the  august  spectacle  of  Mr.  Hastings’s 
Trial  in  Westminster  Hall.  It  was  not  my  province  to  absolve  or  condemn  the  Governor 
of  India  ; but  Mr.  Sheridan's  eloquence  demanded  my  applause  ; nor  could  I hear  without 
rTTO'ion  the  personal  compliment  which  he  paid  me  in  the  presence  of  the  British  natio^. 
F.rprn  this  display  of  genius,  which  blamed  four  successive  days,”  &c,  &p 


24 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


drain  the  produce  of  industry,  to  seize  all  the  treasures,  wealth,  and  pros- 
perity of  the  country,  and  then  they  call  it  Protection ! — ^it  is  the  protec- 
tion of  the  vulture  to  the  lamb.  * * * 

The  following  is  his  celebrated  delineation  of  Filial  Affection, 
to  which  referenc  is  more  frequently  made  than  to  any  other 
part  of  the  Speech  ; — though  the  gross  inaccuracy  of  the  printed 
Eeport  has  done  its  utmost  to  belie  the  reputation  of  the  original 
passage,  or  rather  has  substituted  a changeling  to  inherit  its 
fame. 

When  I see  in  many  of  these  letters  the  infirmities  of  age  made  a sub- 
ject of  mockery  and  ridicule  ; when  I see  the  feelings  of  a son  treated  by 
Mr.  Middleton  as  puerile  and  contemptible  ; when  I see  an  order  given 
by  Mr.  Hastings  to  harden  that  son’s  heart,  to  choke  the  struggling  nature 
in  his  bosom  ; when  I see  them  pointing  to  the  son’s  name,  and  to  his  stand- 
ard while  marching  to  oppress  the  mother,  as  to  a banner  that  gives  dignity, 
that  gives  a holy  sanction  and  a reverence  to  their  enterprise  ; when  I see 
and  hear  these  things  done-— when  I hear  them  brought  into  three  delibe- 
rate Defences  set  up  against  the  Charges  of  the  Commons— my  Lords,  I 
own  I grow  puzzled  and  confounded,  and  almost  begin  to  doubt  whether, 
where  such  a defence  can  be  offered,  it  may  not  be  tolerated. 

And  yet,  my  Lords,  how  can  I support  the  claim  of  filial  love  by  argu- 
ment— much  less  the  affection  of  a son  to  a mother — where  love  lOses  its 
awe.  and  veneration  is  mixed  with  tenderness?  What  can  I say  upon 
such  a subject,  what  can  I do  but  repeat  the  ready  truths  which,  with  the 
quick  impulse  of  the  mind,  must  spring  to  the  lips  of  every  man  on  such  a 
theme  ? Filial  love  ! the  morality  of  instinct,  the  sacrament  of  nature  and 
duty — or  rather  let  me  say  it  is  miscalled  a duty,  for  it  flows  from  the  heart 
without  effort,  and  is  its  delight,  its  indulgence,  its  enjoyment.  It  is  guid- 
ed, not  by  the  slow  dictates  of  reason  ; it  awaits  not  encouragement  from 
reflection  or  from  thought ; it  asks  no  aid  of  memory  ; it  is  an  innate,  but 
active,  consciousness  of  having  been  the  object  of  a thousand  tender  solici- 
tudes, a thousand  waking  watchful  cares,  of  meek  anxiety  and  patient  sac- 
rifices, unremarked  and  unrequited  by  the  object.  It  is  a gratitude  found- 
ed upon  a conviction  of  obligations,  not  remembered,  but  the  more  bind- 
ing because  not  remembered, — because  conferred  before  the  tender  reason 
could  acknowledge,  or  the  infant  memory  record  them — a gratitude  and 
affection,  which  no  circumstances  should  subdue,  and  which  few  can 
strengthen  ; a gratitude,  in  which  even  injury  from  the  object,  though  it 
may  blend  regret,  should  never  breed  resentment  5 an  affection  which  can 
be  increased  only  by  the  decay  of  those  to  whom  we  owe  it,  an^  which  is 


EIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  25 


then  most  fervent  when  the  tremulous  voice  of  age,  resistless  in  its  feeble- 
ness, inquires  for  the  natural  protector  of  its  cold  decline. 

“ If  these  are  the  general  sentiments  of  man,  what  must  be  their  de- 
pravity, what  must  be  their  degeneracy,  w'ho  can  blot  out  and  erase  from 
ihe  bosom  the  virtue  that  is  deepest  rooted  in  the  human  heart,  and  twined 
within  the  cords  of  life  itself — aliens  from  nature,  apostates  from  humanity ! 
And  yet,  if  there  is  a crime  more  fell,  more  foul — if  there  is  any  thing  worse 
than  a wilful  persecutor  of  his  mother — it  is  to  see  a deliberate,  reasoning 
instigator  and  abettor  to  the  deed  : — this  it  is  that  shocks,  disgusts,  and 
appals  the  mind  more  than  the  other — to  view,  not  a wilful  parricide,  but 
a parricide  by  compulsion,  a miserable  wretch,  not  actuated  by  the  stub- 
born evils  of  his  own  worthless  heart,  not  driven  by  the  fury  of  his  own 
distracted  brain,  but  lending  his  sacrilegious  hand,  without  any  malice  of 
his  own,  to  answer  the  abandoned  purposes  of  the  human  fiends  that  have 
subdued  his  will ! — To  condemn  crimes  like  these,  we  need  not  talk  of 
laws  or  of  human  rules — their  foulness,  their  deformity  does  not  depend 
upon  local  constitutions,  upon  human  institutes  or  religious  creeds  : — they 
are  crimes — and  the  persons  who  perpetrate  them  are  monsters  who  violate 
the  primitive  condition,  upon  which  the  earth  was  given  to  man — they  are 
guilty  by  the  general  verdict  of  human  kind.^^ 

In  some  of  the  sarcasms  we  are  reminded  of  the  quaint  con- 
trasts of  his  dramatic  style.  Thus  : — 

I must  also  do  credit  to  them  whenever  I see  any  thing  like  lenity  in 
Mr.  Middleton  or  his  agent  they  do  seem  to  admit  here,  that  it  was  not 
worth  while  to  commit  a massacre  for  the  discount  of  a small  note  of  hand, 
and  to  put  two  thousand  women  and  children  to  death,  in  order  to  procure 
prompt  payment.’^ 

Of  the  length  to  which  the  language  of  crimination  was  car- 
ried, as  well  by  Mr.  Sheridan  as  by  Mr.  Burke,  one  example,  out 
of  many,  will  suffice.  It  cannot  fail,  however,  to  be  remarked 
that,  while  the  denunciations  and  invectives  of  Burke  are  filled 
throughout  with  a passionate  earnestness,  wffiich  leaves  no  doubt 
as  to  the  sincerity  of  the  hate  and  anger  professed  by  him, — in 
Sheridan,  whose  nature  was  of  a much  gentler  cast,  the  vehemence 
is  evidently  more  in  the  words  than  in  the  feeling,  the  tone  of 
indignation  is  theatrical  and  assumed,  and  the  brightness  of^the 
flash  seems  to  be  more  considered  than  the  destructiveness  of  the 
tire . — 

yob.  II,  § 


26 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


“ It  is  this  circumstance  of  deliberation  and  consciousness  of  his  guilt — 
it  is  this  that  inflames  the  minds  of  those  who  watch  his  transactions,  and 
roots  out  all  pity  for  a person  who  could  act  under  such  an  influence.  We 
conceive  of  such  tyrants  as  Caligula  and  Nero,  bred  up  to  tyranny  and  op- 
pression, having  had  no  equals  to  control  them — no  moment  for  reflection 
— we  conceive  that,  if  tt  could  have  been  possible  to  seize  the  guilty  profli- 
gates for  a moment,  you  might  bring  conviction  to  their  hearts  and  repent- 
ance to  their  minds.  But  when  you  see  a cool,  reasoning,  deliberate 
tyrant — one  who  was  not  born  and  bred  to  arrogance, — w^ho  has  been 
nursed  in  a mercantile  line — who  has  been  used  to  look  round  among  his 
fellow-subjects — to  transact  business  with  his  equals — to  account  for  con- 
duct to  his  master,  and,  by  that  wise  system  of  the  Company,  to  detail  all 
his  transactions — who  never  could  fly  one  moment  from  himself,  but  must 
be  obliged  every  night  to  sit  down  and  hold  up  a glass  to  his  own  soul — 
who  could  never  be  blind  to  his  deformity,  and  who  must  have  brought  his 
conscience  not  only  to  connive  at  but  to  approve  of  it — this  it  is  that  dis- 
tinguishes it  from  the  worst  cruelties,  the  worst  enormities  of  those,  who, 
born  to  tyranny,  and  finding  no  superior,  no  adviser,  have  gone  to  the  last 
presumption  that  there  were  none  above  to  control  them  hereafter.  This 
is  a circumstance  that  aggravates  the  whole  of  the  guilt  of  the  unfortunate 
gentleman  we  are  now  arraigning  at  your  bar.’’ 

We  now  come  to  the  Peroration,  in  which,  skilfully  and  with- 
out appearance  of  design,  it  is  contrived  that  the  same  sort  of 
appeal  to  the  purity  of  British  justice,^  with  which  the  oration 
opened,  should,  like  the  repetition  of  a solemn  strain  of  music,  re- 
cur at  its  close, — leaving  in  the  minds  of  the  Judges  a composed 
and  concentrated  feeling  of  the  great  public  duty  they  had  to 
perform,  in  deciding  upon  the  arraignment  of  guilt  brought  be- 
fore them.  The  Court  of  Directors,  it  appeared,  had  ordered  an 
inquiry  into  the  conduct  of  the  Begums,  with  a view  to  the  res- 
titution of  their  property,  if  it  should  appear  that  the  charges 
against  them  were  unfounded ; but  to  this  proceeding  Mr.  Hast- 
ings objected,  on  the  ground  that  the  Begums  themselves  had  not 
called  for  such  interference  in  their  favor,  and  that  it  was  incon- 
sistent with  the  “ Majesty  of  Justice”  to  condescend  to  volunteer 
Her  services.  The  pompous  and  jesuitical  style  in  which  this 
singular  doctrine*  is  expressed,  in  a letter  addressed  by  tJio 

* “Jf  nolliing  (says  Mr.  Mill)  remained  to  stain  the  remiialicr  af  Mr.  Hastings  but 


BIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  27 


Governor-general  to  Mr.  Macpherson,  is  thus  ingeniously  turned 
to  account  by  the  orator,  in  winding  up  his  masterly  statement 
to  a close : — 

^ And  now  before  I come  to  the  last  magnificent  paragraph,  let  me  call 
the  attention  of  those  who,  possibly,  think  themselves  capable  of  judging 
of  the  dignity  and  character  of  justice  in  this  country  ; — let  me  call  the  at- 
tention of  those  who,  arrogantly  perhaps,  presume  that  they  understand 
what  the  features,  what  the  duties  of  justice  are  here  and  in  India  ; — let 
them  learn  a lesson  from  this  great  statesman,  this  enlarged,  this  liberal 
philosopher  ‘ I hope  I shall  not  depart  from  the  simplicity  of  official  lan- 
guage, in  saying  that  the  Majesty  of  Justice  ought  to  be  approached  with 
solicitation,  not  descend  to  provoke  or  invite  it,  much  less  to  debase  itself 
by  the  suggestion  of  v^^rongs  and  the  promise  of  redress,  with  the  denun- 
ciation of  punishment  before  trial,  and  even  before  accusation.’  This  is  the 
exhortation  which  Mr.  Hastings  makes  to  his  counsel.  This  is  the  character 
which  he  gives  of  British  justice. 

“ But  I will  ask  Your  Lordships,  do  you  approve  this  representation  ? Do 
you  feel  that  this  is  the  true  image  of  Justice  ? Is  this  the  character  of 
Brtish  justice  ? Are  these  her  features  ? Is  this  her  countenance  ? Is  this 
her  gait  or  her  mien?  No,  I think-  even  now  I hear  you  calling  upon  me 
to  turn  from  this  vile  libel,  this  base  caricature,  this  Indian  pagod,  formed 
by  the  hand  of  guilty  and  knavish  tyranny,  to  dupe  the  heart  of  ignorance, 
— to  turn  from  this  deformed  idol  to  the  true  Majesty  of  Justice  here. 
Here,  indeed,  I see  a different  form,  enthroned  by  the  sovereign  hand  of 
Freedom, — awful  without  severity — commanding  without  pride — vigilant 
and  active  without  restlessness  or  suspicion — searching  and  inquisitive 
without  meanness  or  debasement — not  arrogantly  scorning  to  stoop  to  the 
voice  of  afflicted  innocence,  and  in  its  loveliest  attitude  when  bending  to 
uplift  the  suppliant  at  its  feet. 

“ It  is  by  the  majesty,  by  the  form  of  that  Justice,  that  I do  conjure  and 
implore  Your  Lordships  to  give  your  minds  to  this  great  business ; that  I 
exhort  you  to  look,  not  so  much  to  words,  which  may  be  denied  or  quii> 
bled  away,  but  to  the  plain  facts, — to  weigh  and  consider  the  testimony  in 
your  own  minds  ; we  kuov/  the  result  must  be  inevitable.  Let  the  truth 
appear  and  our  cause  is  gained.  It  is  this,  I conjure  Your  Lordships,  for 
your  own  honor,  for  the  honor  of  the  nation,  for  the  honor  of  human  na- 
ture, now  entrusted  to  your  care, — it  is  this  duty  that  the  Commons  of 
England,  I'peaking  through  us,  claims  at  youi*  hands. 

irinriples  avowed  in  this  singular  pleading,  his  character,  among  the  frienda  of  justio?, 
i^uid  be  sufficiently  determined.” 


28 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


**  They  exhort  you  to  it  by  every  thing  that  calls  sublimely  upon  the 
heart  of  man,  by  the  Majesty  of  that  Justice  which  this  bold  man  has  li- 
belled, by  the  wide  fame  of  your  own  tribunal,  by  the  sacred  pledge  by 
which  you  sw^ear  in  the  solemn  hour  of  decision,  knowing  that  that  decision 
will  then  bring  you  tne  highest  reward  that  ever  blessed  the  heart  of 
man,  the  consciousness  of  having  done  the  greatest  act  of  mercy  for  the 
world,  that  the  earth  has  ever  yet  received  from  any  hand  but  Heaven. — 
My  Lords,  I have  done.’’ 

Though  I have  selected  some  of  the  most  remarkable  passages 
of  this  Speech,^  it  would  be  unfair  to  judge  of  it  even  from  these 
specimens.  A Report,  verbatim^  of  any  effective  speech  must 
always  appear  diffuse  and  ungraceful  in  the  perusal.  The  very 
repetitions,  the  redundancy,  the  accumulation  of  epithets  which 
gave  force  and  momentum  in  the  career  of  delivery,  but  weaken 
and  encumber  the  march  of  the  style,  when  read.  There  is,  in- 
deed, the  same  sort  of  difference  between  a faithful  short-hand 
Report,  and  those  abridged  and  polished  records  which  Burke 
has  left  us  of  his  speeches,  as  there  is  between  a cast  taken  di- 
rectly from  the  face,  (where  every  line  is  accurately  preserved, 
but  all  the  blemishes  and  excrescences  are  in  rigid  preservation 
also,)  and  a model,  over  which  the  correcting  hand  has  passed, 
and  all  that  was  minute  or  superfluous  is  generalized  and  softened 
away. 

Neither  was  it  in  such  rhetorical  passages  as  abound,  perhaps, 
rather  lavishly,  in  this  Speech,  that  the  chief  strength  of  Mr.  Sher- 
idan’s talent  lay.  Good  sense  and  wit  were  the  great  weapons 

* I had  sdecled  many  more,  but  must  confess  that  they  appeared  to  me,  when  in  print, 
so  little  worthy  of  the  reputation  of  the  Speech,  that  I thought  it  would  be,  on  the  whole, 
more  prudent  to  omit  them.  Even  of  the  passages,  here  cited,  I speak  ralher^from  my 
imagination  of  what  they  must  have  been,  than  from  my  actual  feeling  of  what  they  are. 
T!ie  character,  given  of  such  Reports,  by  Lord  Ix)ughborough,  is,  no  doubt,  but  too  just. 
On  a motion  made  by  Lord  Stanhope,  (April  29,  1794),  that  the  short-hand  writers, 
employed  on  Hastings’s  trial,  should  be  summoned  to  the  bar  of  the  House,  to  read  their 
minutes.  Lord  Loughborough,  in  the  course  of  his  observations  on  the  motion,  said, 
“ God  forbid  that  ever  their  Lordships  should  call  on  llie  short-hand  wTiters  to  publich  their 
rules  j for,  of  all  people,  short-hand  wTiters  were  ever  the  farthest  from  correctness,  and 
ttiere  were  no  man’s  words  they  ever  heard  that  they  again  returned.  They  were  in 
general  ignorant,  as  acting  mechanically  ; and  by  not  considering  the  antecedent,  and 
CA^ching  the  sound,  and  not  the  sense,  they  perverted  the  sense  of  the  sjieaker,  and  made 
bpn  appear  as  ignorant  as  themselves,” 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  29 

of  his  oratory — shrewdness  in  detecting  the  weak  points  of  an 
ad  versary,  and  infinite  powers  of  raillery  in  exposing  it.  These 
wei*e  faculties  which  he  possessed  in  a greater  degree  than  any 
of  his  contenaporaries ; and  so  well  did  he  himself  know  the 
stronghold  of  his  powers,  that  it  was  but  rarely,  after  this  dis- 
play in  Westminster  Hall,  that  he  was  tempted  to  leave  it  for 
the  higher  flights  of  oratory,  or  to  wander  after  Sense  into  that 
region  of  metaphor,  where  too  often,  like  Angelica  in  the  en- 
chanted palace  of  Atlante,  she  is  sought  for  in  vain.'^  His  at- 
tempts, indeed,  at  the  florid  or  figurative  style,  whether  in  his 
speeches  or  his  writings,  were  seldom  very  successful.  That 
luxuriance  of  fancy,  which  in  Burke  was  natural  and  indigenous, 
was  in  him  rather  a forced  and  exotic  grovv  th.  It  is  a remarkable 
proof  of  this  difference  between  them,  that  while,  in  the  memo- 
randums of  speeches  left  behind  by  Burke,  we  find,  thed  the 
points  of  argument  and  business  were  those  which  he  prepared, 
trusting  to  the  ever  ready  wardrobe  of  his  fancy  for  their  adorn- 
ment,— in  Mr.  Sheridan’s  notes  it  is  chiefly  the  decorative  pas- 
sages, that  are  worked  up  beforehand  to  their  full  polish ; while 
on  the  resources  of  his  good  sense,  ingenuity,  and  temper,  he 
seems  to  have  relied  for  the  management  of  his  reasonings  and 
facts.  Hence  naturally  it  arises  that  the  images  of  Burke,  being 
called  up  on  the  instant,  like  spirits,  to  perform  the  bidding  of 
his  argument,  minister  to  it  throughout,  with  an  almost  co- 
ordinate agency  *,  while  the  figurative  fancies  of  Sheridan,  already 
prepared  for  the  occasion,  and  brought  forth  to  adorn,  not  assist, 
the  business  of  the  discourse,  resemble  rather  those  sprites  which 
the  magicians  used  to  keep  inclosed  in  phials,  to  be  produced  fora 
momentary  enchantment,  and  then  shut  up  again. 

In  truth,  the  similes  and  illustrations  of  Burke  form  such  an 
intimate,  and  often  essential,  part  of  his  reasoning,  that  if  the 
whole  strength  of  the  Samson  does  not  lie  in  those  luxuriant 
locks,  it  would  at  least  be  considerably  diminished  by  their  loss. 
Whereas,  in  the  Speech  of  Mr.  Sheridaii,  which  we  have  just 
been  considering,  there  is  hardly  one  of  the  rhetorical  ornaments 

♦ Curran  used  to  say  langliingly,  “When  I can’t  talk  sense,  I talk  motaphor  ” 


30 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OP  THE 


that  might  not  be  detached,  without,  in  any  great  degree,  injuring 
the  force  of  the  general  statement.  Another  consequence  of  tnis 
difference  between  them  is  observable  in  their' respective  modes 
of  transition,  from  what  may  be  called  the  business  of  a speech 
to  its  more  generalized  and  rhetorical  parts.  When  Sheridan 
rises,  his  elevation  is  not  sufficiently  prepared  ; he  starts  abruptly 
and  at  once  from  the  level  of  his  statement,  and  sinks  down  into 
it  again  with  the  same  suddenness.  But  Burke,  whose  imagin- 
ation never  allows  even  business  to  subside  into  mere  prose, 
sustains  a pitch  throughout  which  accustoms  the  mind  to  wonder., 
and,  while  it  prepares  us  to  accompany  him  in  his  boldest  flights, 
makes  us,  even  when  he  walks,  still  feel  that  he  has  wings  : — 

Mime  quand  Voiseau  marches  on  sent  quHl  a des  ailes^ 

The  sincerity  of  the  praises  bestowed  by  Burke  on  the  Speech 
of  his  brother  Manager  has  sometimes  been  questioned,  but  upon 
no  sufficient  grounds.  His  zeal  for  the  success  of  the  Impeach- 
ment, no  doubt,  had  a considerable  share  in  the  enthusiasm,  with 
which  this  great  effort  in  its  favor  filled  him.  It  may  be  granted, 
too,  that,  in  admiring  the  apostrophes  that  variegate  this  speech, 
he  was,  in  some  degree,  enamored  of  a reflection  of  himself ; 

“ Cunctaque  miratur^  quihus  est  mirabilis  ipseJ^ 

He  sees  reflected  there,  in  fainter  light, 

All  that  combines  to  make  himself  so  bright. 

But  whatever  mixture  of  other  motives  there  may  have  been 
in  the  feeling,  it  is  certain  that  his  admiration  of  the  Speech  was 
real  and  unbounded.  He  is  said  to  have  exclaimed  to  Mr.  Fox, 
during  the  delivery  of  some  passages  of  it,  “ There, — that  is  the 
true  style  ; — something  between  poetry  and  prose,  and  better  than 
either.”  The  severer  taste  of  Mr.  Fox  dissented,  as  might  be 
expected,  from  this  remark.  He  replied,  that  “ he  thought  such 
a mixture  was  for  the  advantage  of  neither — as  producing  poetic 
prose,  or,  st  11  worse,  prosaic  poetry.”  It  was,  indeed,  the  opinion 
of  Mr.  Fox,  that  the  impression  made  upon  Burke  by  these 


HIGHT  HOK.  RiCSARD  BRR^SLEY  SHERIDAN.  81 


somewhat  too  theatrical  tirades  is  observable  in  the  change  that 
subsequently  took  place  in  his  own  style  of  writing ; and  that  the 
horid  and  less  chastened  taste  which  some  persons  discover  in  his 
later  productions,  may  all  be  traced  to  the  example  of  this  speech. 
However  this  may  be,  or  whether  there  is  really  much  difference, 
as  to  taste,  between  the  youthful  and  sparkling  vision  of  the 
Queen  of  France  in  1792,  and  the  interview  between  the  Angel 
and  Lord  Bathurst  in  1775,  it  is  surely  a most  unjust  disparage- 
ment of  the  eloquence  of  Burke,  to  apply  to  it,  at  any  time  of 
his  life,  the  epithet  “ flowery,” — a designation  only  applicable  to 
that  ordinary  ambition  of  style,  whose  chief  display,  by  necessity, 
consists  of  ornament  without  thought,  and  pomp  without  sub- 
stance. A succession  of  bright  images,  clothed  in  simple,  trans- 
parent language, — even  when,  as  in  Burke,  they  “ crowd  upon 
the  aching  sense  ” too  dazzlingly, — should  never  be  confounded 
with  that  mere  verbal  opulence  of  style,  which  mistakes  the  glare 
of  words  for  the  glitter  of  ideas,  and,  like  the  Helen  of  the 
sculptor  Lysippus,  makes  finery  supply  the  place  of  beauty. 
The  figurative  definition  of  eloquence  in  the  Book  of  Proverbs 
— Apples  of  gold  in  a net-work  of  silver  ” — is  peculiarly  ap- 
plicable to  that  enshrinement  of  rich,  solid  thoughts  in  clear  and 
shining  language,  which  is  the  triumph  of  the  imaginative  class 
of  writers  and  orators, — while,  perhaps,  the  net-work,  without  the 
gold  inclosed,  is  a type  equally  significant  of  what  is  called 

flowery  ” eloquence. 

It  is  also,  I think,  a mistake,  however  flattering  to  my  country, 
to  call  the  School  of  Oratory,  to  which  Burke  belongs,  Irish, 
That  Irishmen  are  naturally  more  gifted  with  those  stores  of 
fancy,  from  which  the  illumination  of  this  high  order  of  the  art 
must  be  supplied,  the  names  of  Burke,  Grattan,  Sheridan,  Curran, 
Canning,  and  Plunkett,  abundantly  testify.  Yet  had  Lord  Chat- 
ham, before  any  of  these  great  speakers  Vere  heard,^,led  the  way, 
m the  same  animated  and  figured  strain  of  oratory  while  ano- 

* His  few  noble  sentences  on  the  privileg-e  of  the  poor  man's  cottage  are  universally 
Known.  There  is  also  his  fam  iful  allusion  to  the  confluence  of  the  Saone  and  Rhone,  the 
traditional  reports  of  which  vary,  l)oih  as  to  the  exact  terms  in  which  it  was  expressed, 
ana  the  persons  to  wliom  he  applied  it.  Even  Lord  Orford  docs  not  seem  to  have  ascer- 


82 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


ther  Englishman,  Lord  Bacon,  by  making  Fancy  the  hand-maid 
of  Philosophy,  had  long  since  set  an  example  of  that  union  of 
the  imaginative  and  the  solid,  which,  both  in  writing  and  in  speak- 
ing, forms  the  characteristic  distinction  of  this  school. 

The  Speech  of  Mr.  Sheridan  in  Westminster  Hall,  though  so 
much  inferior  in  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Fox  and  others,  to  that 
which  he  had  delivered  on  the  same^  subject  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  seems  to  have  produced,  at  the  time,  even  a more 
lively  and  general  sensation; — possibly  from  the  nature  and 
numerousness  of  the  assembly  before  wFich  it  was  spoken,  and 
which  counted  among  its  multitude  a number  of  that  sex,  whose 
lips  are  in  general  found  to  be  the  most  rapid  conductors  of  fame. 

But  there  was  one  of  this  sex,  more  immediately  interested  in 
his  glory,  w^ho  seems  to  have  felt  it  as  women  alone  can  feel.  ‘‘  I 
have  delayed  writing,”  says  Mrs.  Sheridan,  in  a letter  to  her  sister- 
in-law,  dated  four  days  after  the  termination  of  the  Speech,  till  I 
could  gratify  myself  and  you  by  sending  you  the  news  of  our  dear 
Dick’s  triumph  ! — of  our  triumph  I may  call  it ; for  surely,  no 
one,  in  the  slightest  degree  connected  with  him,  but  must  feel 
proud  and  happy.  It  is  impossible,  my  dear  woman,  to  convey 
to  you  the  delight,  the  astonishment,  the  adoration,  he  has  excited 
in  the  breasts  of  every  class  of  people ! Every  party-prejudice 
has  been  overcome  by  a display  of  genius,  eloquence  and  good- 
ness, which  no  one  with  any  thing  like  a heart  about  them,  could 
have  listened  to  without  being  the  wiser  and  the  better  for  the 
rest  of  their  lives.  What  must  my  feelings  be ! — you  can  only 
imagine.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  it  is  with  some  difficulty  that  I 
can  ‘ let  dowm  my  mind,’  as  Mr.  Burke  said  afterwards,  to  talk  or 
think  on  any  other  subject.  But  pleasure,  too  exquisite,  becomes 
pain,  and  I am  at  this  moment  suffering  for  the  delightful  anxieties 
of  last  week.” 

tained  the  latter  point  To  the.se  may  be  added  the  following-  specimen  : — “ I don’t  inquire 
from  what  quarter  the  wind  cometh,  but  whither  it  goeth  ; and,  if  any  measure  tha* 
comes  from  the  Right  ITonorable  Gentleman  tends  to  the  public  good,  my  bark  is  ready.’' 
Of  a different  kind  is  that  grand  passage, — “ America,  they  tell  me,  has  resisted — I re- 
joice to  hear  it,” — which  Mr.  Grattan  used  to  pronounce  finer  than  anything  in  Demos* 
thcnes. 


KIGHT  HON.  RlCHARn  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  3^ 

« 

It  IS  a most  happy  combination  when  the  wife  of  a man  of 
genius  unites  intellect  enough  to  appreciate  the  talents  of  her 
Imsband,  with  the  quick,  feminine  sensibility,  that  can  thus  pas- 
sionately feel  his  success.  Pliny  tells  us,  that  his  Calpurnia, 
whenever  he  pleaded  an  important  cause,  had  messengers  ready 
to  report  to  her  every  murmur  of  applause  that  he  received ; 
and  the  poet  Statius,  in  alluding  to  his  own  victories  at  the  Al- 
banian Games,  mentions  the  “ breathless  kisses,’^  with  which  his 
wife,  Claudia,  used  to  cover  the  triumphal  garlands  he  brought 
home.  Mrs.  Sheridan  may  well  take  her  place  beside  these 
Eoman  wives ; — and  she  had  another  resemblance  to  one  of  them, 
which  was  no  less  womanly  and  attractive.  Not  only  did  Cal* 
purnia  sympathize  with  the  glory  of  her  husband  abroad,  but  she 
could  also,  like  Mrs.  Sheridan,  add  a charm  to  his  talents  at  home, 
by  setting  his  verses  to  music  and  singing  them  to  her  harp, — 
“with  no  instructor,”  adds  Pliny,  “but  Love,  who  is,  after  all, 
the  best  master.” 

. ^ 

This  letter  of  Mrs.  Sheridan  thus  proceeds  : — “ You  were  per- 
haps alarmed  by  the  account  of  S.’s  illness  in  the  papers ; but  I 
have  the  pleasure  to  assure  you  he  is  now  perfectly  well,  and  I 
hope  by  next  week  we  shall  be  quietly  settled  in  the  country, 
and  sufiered  to  repose,  in  every  sense  of  the  word  ; for  indeed 
we  have,  both  of  us,  been  in  a constant  state  of  agitation,  of  one 
kind  or  other,  for  some  time  back. 

“ I am  very  glad  to  hear  your  father  continues  so  well.  Surely 
he  must  feel  happy  and  proud  of  such  a son.  I take  it  for 
granted  you  see  the  newspapers : I assure  you  the  accounts  in 
them  are  not  exaggerated,  and  only  echo  the  exclamation  of  ad- 
miration that  is  in  every  body’s  mouth.  I make  no  excuse  for 
dwelling  on  this  subject:  I know  you  will  not  find  it  tedious. 
God  bless  you — I am  an  invalid  at  present,  and  not  able  to  write 
long  letters.” 

The  agitation  and  want  of  repose,  which  Mrs.  Sheridan  here 
complains  of,  arose  not  only  from  the  anxiety  which  she  so 
deeply  felt,  for  the  success  of  this  great  public  effort  of  her  hus- 
band, but  from  the  share  which  she  herself  had  taken,  in  the  la- 

VOL.  II,  2'^ 


34  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

bor  and  attention  necessary  to  prepare  him  for  it.  The  m*nfl  of 
Sheridan  being,  from  the  circumstances  of  his  education  and  life^ 
but  scantily  informed  upon  all  subjects  for  which  reading  is  ne- 
cessary, required,  of  course,  considerable  training  and  feeding, 
before  it  could  venture  to  grapple  with  any  new  or  important 
task.  He  has  been  known  to  say  frankly  to  his  political  friends, 
when  invited  to  take  part  in  some  question  that  depended  upon 
authorities,  “ You  know  Fm  an  ignoramus — but  here  I am — in- 
struct  me  and  Fll  do  my  best.”  It  is  said  that  the  stock  of  nu- 
merical lore,  upon  which  he  ventured  to  set  up  as  the  Aristar- 
chus of  Mr.  Pitt’s  financial  plans,  was  the  result  of  three  weeks’ 
hard  study  of  arithmetic,  to  which  he  doomed  himself,  in  the 
early  part  of  his  Parliamentary  career,  on  the  chance  of  being 
appointed,  some  time  or  other.  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 
For  financial  display  it  must  be  owned  that  this  was  rather  a 
crude  preparation.  But  there  are  other  subjects  of  oratory, 
on  which  the  outpourings  of  information,  newly  acquired,  may 
have  a freshness  and  vivacity  which  it  would  be  vain  to  expect, 
in  the  communication  of  knowledge  that  has  lain  long  in  the 
mind,  and  lost  in  circumstantial  spirit  what  it  has  gained  in  gene- 
ral mellowness.  They,  indeed,  who  have  been  regularly  disci 
plined  in  learning,  may  be  not  only  too  familiar  with  what  they 
know  to  communicate  it  with  much  liveliness  to  others,  but  too 
apt  also  to  rely  upon  the  resources  of  the  memory,  and  upon 
those  cold  outlines  which  it  retains  of  knowledge  whose  details 
are  faded.  The  natural  consequence  of  all  this  is  that  persons,  the 
best  furnished  with  general  information,  are  often  the  most  vague 
• and  unimpi  essive  on  particular  subjects  ; while,  on  the  contrary, 
an  uninstructed  man  of  genius,  like  Sheridan,  who  approaches  a 
topic  of  importance  for  the  first  time,  has  not  only  the  stimulus 
of  ambition  and  curiosity  to  aid  him  in  mastering  its  details,  but 
the  novelty  of  firct  impressions  to  brighten  his  general  views  of 
it — and,  with  a fancy  thus  freshly  excited,  himself,  is  most  sure 
to  touch  and  rouse  the  imaginations  of  others. 

This  was  particularly  the  situation  of  Mr.  Sheridan  w'ith  re- 
spect to  the  history  of  Indian  affairs ; and  there  remain  among 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRIKSLEY  SHERIDAN.  35 


his  papers  numerous  proofs  of  the  labor  which  his  preparation 
f)r  this  arduous  task  cost  not  only  himself  but  Mrs.  Sheridan. 
Among  others,  there  is  a large  pamphlet  of  Mr.  Hastings,  con- 
sisting of  more  than  two  hundred  pages,  copied  out  neatly  in  her 
writing,  with  some  assistance  from  another  female  hand.  The 
industry,  indeed,  of  all  around  him  was  put  in  requisition  for 
this  great  occasion — some,  busy  with  the  pen  and  scissors, 
making  extracts — some  pasting  and  stitching  his  scattered  me- 
morandums in  their  places.  So  that  there  was  hardly  a single 
member  of  the  family  that  could  not  boast  of  having  contributed 
his  share,  to  the  mechanical  construction  of  this  speech.  The 
pride  of  its  success  was,  of  course,  equally  participated;  and 
Edwards,  a favorite  servant  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  who  lived  with 
him  many  years,  was  long  celebrated  for  his  professed  imitation 
of  the  manner  in  which  his  master  delivered  (what  seems  to  have 
struck  Edwards  as  the  finest  part  of  the  speech)  his  closing 
words,  “My  Lords,  I have  done!” 

The  impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings  is  one  of  those  pa- 
geants in  the  drama  of  public  life,  w^hich  show  how  fleeting  are 
the  labors  and  triumphs  of  politicians — “ what  shadows  they  are, 
and  what  shadows  they  pursue.”  When  w^e  consider  the  im- 
portance which  the  great  actors  in  that  scene  attached  to  it, — the 
grandeur  with  which  their  eloquence  invested  the  cause,  as  one 
in  which  the  liberties  and  rights  of  the  whole  human  race  were 
interested, — and  then  think  how  all  that  splendid  array  of  Law 
and  of  talent  has  dwindled  away,  in  the  view  of  most  persons  at 
present,  into  an  unworthy  and  harassing  persecution  of  a meri- 
torious and  successful  statesman ; — how  those  passionate  appeals 
to  justice,  those  vehement  denunciations  of  crime,  which  made 
the  halls  of  Westminster  and  St.  Stephen’s  ring  with  their 
echoes,  are  now  coldly  judged,  through  the  medium  of  disfiguring 
Reports,  and  regarded,  at  the  best,  but  as  rhetorical  effusions,  in- 
debted to  temper  for  their  warmth,  and  to  fancy  for  their  de 
tails; — while  so  little  was  the  reputation  of  the  delinquent  him- 
self even  scorched  by  the  bolts  of  eloqiJfence  thus  launched  at 
him,  that  a subsequent  House  of  Commons  thought  themselves 


36 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


honored  by  his  presence,  and  welcomed  him  with  such  cheers*  as 
should  reward  only  the  friends  and  benefactors  of  freedom  ; — 
when  we  reflect  on  this  thankless  result  of  so  much  labor  and 
talent,  it  seems  wonderful  that  there  should  still  be  found  high 
and  gifted  spirits,  to  waste  themselves  away  in  such  temporary 
struggles,  and,  like  that  spendthrift  of  genius,  Sheridan,  to  dis- 
coxint  their  immortality,  for  the  payment  of  fame  in  hand  which 
these  triumphs  of  the  day  secure  to  them. 

For  this  direction,  however,  which  the  current  of  opinion  has 
taken,  with  regard  to  Mr.  Hastings  and  his  eloquent  accusers, 
there  are  many  very  obvious  reasons  to  be  assigned.  Suc- 
cess, as  I have  already  remarked,  was  the  dazzling  talisman, 
which  he  waved  in  the  eyes  of  his  adversaries  from  the 
first,  and  which  his  friends  have  made  use  of  to  throw  a 
splendor  over  his  tyranny  and  injustice  ever  since.f  Too  often 
in  the  moral  logic  of  this  world,  it  matters  but  little  what  the 
premises  of  conduct  may  be,  so  the  conclusion  but  turns  out 
showy  and  prosperous.  There  is  also,  it  must  be  owned,  among 
the  English,  (as  perhaps,  among  all  free  people,)  a strong  taste 
for  the  arbitrary,  when  they  themselves  are  not  to  be  the  vic- 
tims of  it,  which  invariably  secures  to  such  accomplished  des- 
potisms, as  that  of  Lord  Straflbrd  in  Ireland,  and  Hastings  in 
India,  even  a larger  share  of  their  admiration  than  they  are, 
themselves,  always  willing  to  allow. 

The  rhetorical  exaggerations,  in  which  the  Managers  of  the 
prosecution  indulged, — Mr.  Sheridan,  from  imagination,  luxuri- 
ating in  its  own  display,  and  Burke  from  the  same  cause,  added 
to  his  overpowering  autocracy  of  temper — were  but  too  much 

* When  called  as  a witness  before  the  House,  in  1813,  on  the  sulyect  of  the  renewal 
cf  the  East  India  Company’s  Charter. 

f In  the  important  article  of  Finance,  however,  for  which  he  made  so  many  sacrifices  of 
humanity,  even  the  justification  of  success  was  wanting  to  his  measures.  The  following 
is  the  account  given  by  the  Select  Committee  of  the  House  of  Commons  in  1810,  of  the 
state  m which  India  was  left  by  his  administration  : — “The  revenues  had  been  absorbed  ; 
the  pay  and  allowances  of  both  the  civil  and  military  branches  of  the  service  were  greatly 
in  arrear  ; the  credit  of  the  (i»mpany  was  extremely  depressed  ; and,  added  to  all,  the 
who!e  system  had  fallen  into  such  irregularity  and  confusion,  that  the  real  state  ot  afiairs 
could  not  be  ascertained  till  the  conclusion  of  the  veor  1786-G.” — Third  Eejport. 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  37 


calculated  to  throw  suspicion  on  the  cause  in  which  they  were 
employed,  and  to  produce  a reaction  in  favor  of  the  person  whom 
they  were  meant  to  overwhelm.  ^ Rogovos,  Judlces,—}A.v,  Has- 
tings might  well  have  said, — “ si  iste  disertus  est,  ideo  me  dam- 
naH  oportet 

There  are  also,  without  doubt,  considerable  allowances  to  be 
made,  for  the  difficult  situations  in  which  Mr.  Hastings  was 
‘placed,  and  those  impulses  to  wrong  which  acted  upon  him  from 
all  sides — allowances  which  will  have  more  or  less  weight  with 
the  judgment,  according  as  it  may  be  mmre  or  less  fastidiously 
disposed,  in  letting  excuses  for  rapine  and  oppression  pass  muster. 
The  incessant  and  urgent  demands  of  the  Directors  upon  him  for 
money  may  palliate,  perhaps,  the  violence  of  those  methods 
which  he  took  to  procure  it  for  them ; and  the  obstruction  to  his 
policy  which  would  have  arisen  from  a strict  observance  of  Trea- 
ties, may  be  admitted,  by  the  same  gentle  casuistry,  as  an  apology 
for  his  frequent  infractions  of  them. 

Another  consideration  to  be  taken  into  account,  in  our  estimate 
of  the  character  of  Mr.  Hastings  as  a ruler,  is  that  strong  light 
of  publicity,  which  the  practice  in  India  of  carrying  on  the  busi- 
ness of  government  by  written  documents  threw  on  all  the  ma- 
chinery of  his  measures,  deliberative  as  well  as  executive.  These 
Minutes,  indeed,  form  a record  of  fluctuation  and  inconsistency — 
not  only  on  the  part  of  the  Governor-General,  but  of  all  the 
members  of  the  government — a sort  of  weather-cock  diary  of 
opinions  and  principles,  shifting  with  the  interests  or  convenience 
of  the  moment,!  which  entirely  takes  away  our  respect  even  for 

* Seneca,  Controvers.  lib.  iii.  c.  19. 

f Instances  of  this,  on  the  purl  of  Mr.  Hastings,  are  numberless.  In  remarking  upon 
his  corrupt  transfer  of  the  management  of  the  Nabob’s  household  in  1778,  the  Directors 
say,  “ It  is  with  equal  surprise  and  concern  that  we  observe  this  request  introduced,  and 
the  Nabob’s  ostensible  rights  so  solemnly  asserted  at  this  period  by  our  Governor-General  ; 
because,  on  a late  occasion,  to  serve  a very  different  purpose,  he  has  not  scrupled  to  de- 
clare it  as  visible  as  the  light  of  the  sun,  that  the  Nabob  is  a tnere  pageant,  and  without 
even  the  shadow  of  authority.”  On  another  transaction  in  1781,  Mr.  Mill  remarks  : — “ It 
IS  a curious  moral  speclacls  to  compare  Uie  minutes  and  letters  of  the  Governor-General, 
when,  at  the  beginning  of  the  year  1780,  mainlAining  the  propriety  of  condemning  the 
Nabob  to  sustain  the  whole  of  the  l.'urden  imposial  upon  him,  and  his  minutes  and  letters 
maintaining  the  propriety  of  relieving  him  from  those  burthens  in  1781.  The  argunrieats 


88 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


success,  when  issuing  out  of  such  a chaos  of  self-contradiction 
and  shuffling.  It  cannot  be  denied,  however,  that  such  a system 
of  exposure — submitted,  as  it  Ayas  in  this  case,  to  a still  further 
scrutiny,  under  the  bold,  denuding  hands  of  a Burke  and  a She- 
ridan— was  a test  to  which  the  councils  of  few  rulers  could  with 
impunity  be  brought.  Where,  indeed,  is  the  statesman  that 
could  bear  to  have  diis  obliquities  thus  chronicled  ? or  where  is 
the  Cabinet  that  would  not  shrink  from  such  an  inroad  of  light 
into  its  recesses '? 

The  undefined  nature,  too,  of  that  power  which  the  Company 
exercised  in  India,  and  the  uncertain  state  of  the  Law,  vibrating 
between  the  English  and  the  Hindoo  codes,  left  such  tempting 
openings  for  injustice  as  it  was  hardly  possible  to  resist.  With 
no  public  opinion  to  warn  off  authority  from  encroachment,  and 
with  the  precedents  set  up  by  former  rulers  all  pointing  the 
wrong  way,  it  would  have  been  diffleult,  perhaps,  for  even  more 
moderate  men  than  Hastings,  not  occasionally  to  break  bounds 
and  go  continually  astray. 

To  all  these  considerations  in  his  favor  is  to  be  added  the  appa- 
rently triumphant  fact,  that  his  government  was  popular  among 
the  natives  of  India,  and  that  his  name  is  still  remembered  by 
them  with  gratitude  and  respect. 

Allowing  Mr.  Hastings,  however,  the  full  advantage  of  these 
and  other  strong  pleas  in  his  defence,  it  is  yet  impossible,  for  any 
real  lover  of  justice  and  humanity,  to  read  the  plainest  and  least 
exaggerated  history  of  his  government,^  without  feeling  deep 


and  facts  adduced  on  the  one  occasion,  as  well  as  the  conclusion,  are  a flat  contradiction 
to  those  exhibited  on  the  other.” 

* Nothing  can  be  more  partial  and  misleading  than  the  coloring  given  to  these  trans- 
actions by  Mr.  Nicholls  and  other  apologists  of  Hastings.  For  the  view  which  I have  my- 
self taken  of  the  whole  case  I am  chiefly  indebted  to  the  able  History  of  British  India  by 
Mr.  Mill — wliose  industrious  research  and  clear  analytical  statements  make  him  the  most 
valuable  authority  that  can  be  consulted  on  the  subject. 

The  mood  of  mind  in  which  Air.  Nicholls  listened  to  the  proceedings  of  the  Impeachment 
may  be  judged  from  the  following  declaration,  which  he  has  had  the  courage  to  promul- 
gate to  the  public  : — ‘‘On  this  Cliarge  (the  Begum  Charge)  Mr.  Sheridan  made  a speech, 
which  both  sides  of  the  House  professed  greatly  to  admire — for  Mr.  Pitt  now  openly  ap- 
proved of  the  Impeachment.  I ivill  C/^knowledge,  thatl  did  not  admire  this  speech  of  Mr. 
Sheridan,* 


EIGHT  HOK.  RICHAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN. 


39 


icdiiJ'nation  excited  at  almost  every  page  of  it.  His  predecessors 
haa,  it  is  true,  been  guilty  of  wrongs  as  glaring — the  treachery  of 
Lora  Clive  to  Omichund  in  1757,  and  the  abandonment  of  Kam- 
narain  to  Meer  Causim  under  the  administration  of  Mr.  Vansit- 
tart,  are  stains  upon  the  British  character  which  no  talents  or 
glory  can  do  away.  There  are  precedents,  indeed,  to  be  found, 
•through  the  annals  of  our  Indian  empire,  for  the  formation  of 
the  most  perfect  code  of  tyranny,  in  every  department,  legis- 
lative, judicial,  and  executive,  that  ever  entered  into  the  dreams 
of  intoxicated  power.  But,  while  the  practice  of  Mr.  Hastings 
was,  at  least,  as  tyrannical  as  that  of  his  predecessors,  the  prin- 
ciples upon  which  he  founded  that  practice  were  still  more  odious 
and  unpardonable.  In  his  manner,  indeed,  of  defending  himself 
he  is  his  own  worst  accuser — as  there  is  no  outrage  of  power, 
no  violation  of  faith,  that  might  not  be  justified  by  the  versatile 
and  ambidextrous  doctrines,  the  lessons  of  deceit  and  rules  of 
rapine,  which  he  so  ably  illustrated  by  his  measures,  and  has  so 
shamelessly  recorded  with  his  pen.  x 

Nothing  but  an  early  and  deep  initiation  in  the  corrupting 
school  of  Indian  politics  could  have  produced  the  facility  with 
which,  as  occasion  required,  he  could  belie  his  o wn  recorded  asser- 
tions, turn  hostilely  round  upon  his  own  expressed  opinions,  dis- 
claim the  proxies  which  he  himself  had  delegated,  and,  m short, 
get  rid  of  all  the  inconveniences  of  personal  identity,  by  never 
acknowledging  himself  to  be  bound  by  any  engagement  or 
opinion  which  himself  had  formed.  To  select  the  worst  features 
of  his  Administration  is  no  very  easy  task ; but  the  calculating 
cruelty  with  which  he  abetted  the  extermination  of  the  Rohillas 
— his  unjust  and  precipitate  execution  of  Nuncomar,  who  had 
stood  forth  as  his  accuser,  and,  therefore,  became  his  victim, — 
his  violent  aggression  upon  the  Raja  of  Benares,  and  that  com- 
bination of  public  and  private  rapacity,  which  is  exhibited  in  the 
details  of  his  conduct  to  the  royal  family  of  Oude; — these  are 
acts,  proved  by  the  testimony  of  himself  and  his  accomplices, 
from  the  disgrace  of  which  no  formal  acquittal  upon  points  of 
law  can  absolve  him,  and  whose  guilt  the  allowances  of  charity 


40 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


may  extenuate,  but  never  can  remove.  That  the  perpetrator  of 
such  deeds  should  have  been  popular  among  the  natives  of  India 
only  proves  how  low  was  the  standard  of  justice,  to  which  tne  entire. 

enor  of  our  policy  had  accustomed  them ; — but  that  a ruler  of 
this  character  should  be  held  up  to  admiration  in  England,  is  one 
of  those  anomalies  with  which  England,  more  than  any  other 
nation,  abounds,  and  only  inclines  us  to  w^onder  that  the  true 
worship  of  Liberty  should  so  long  have  continued  to  flourish  in  a 
country,  where  such  heresies  to  her  sacred  cause  are  found. 

I have  dwelt  so  long  upon  the  circumstances  and  nature  of  this 
Trial,  not  only  on  account  of  the  conspicuous  place  which  it  occu- 
pies in  the  fore-ground  of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  life,  but  because  of  that 
general  interest  which  an  observer  of  our  Institutions  must  take 
in  it,  from  the  clearness  with  which  it  brought  into  view  some  of 
their  best  and  worst  features.  While,  on  one  side,  we  perceive 
the  weight  of  the  popular  scale,  in  the  lead  taken,  upon  an  occa- 
sion of  such  solemnity  and  importance,  by  two  persons  brought 
forward  from  the  middle  ranks  of  society  into  the  very  van  of 
political  distinction  and  influence,  on  the  other  hand,  in  the  sym- 
pathy and  favor  extended  by  the  Court  to  the  practical  assertor 
of  despotic  principles,  we  trace  the  prevalence  of  that  feeling, 
which,  since  the  commencement  of  the  late  King’s  reign,  has  made 
the  Throne  the  rallying  point  of  all  that  • are  unfriendly  to  the 
cause  of  freedom.  Again,  in  considering  the  conduct  of  the 
Crown  Lawyers  during  the  Trial — the  narrow  and  irrational 
rules  of  evidence  which  they  sought  to  establish — the  uncon- 
stitutional control  assumed  by  the  Judges,  over  the  decisions  of 
the  tribunal  before  which  the  cause  was  tried,  and  the  refusal  to 
communicate  the  reasons  upon  which  those  decisions  were  found- 
ed— above  all,  too,  the  legal  opinions  expressed  on  the  great 
question  relative  to  the  abatement  of  an  Impeachment  by  Dis- 
solution, in  which  almost  the  whole  body  of  lawyers*  took  the 

* Among  llie  rest,  Lord  Erskine,  who  allowed  his  profession,  on  this  occasion,  to  stand 
in  the  light  of  his  judgment.  “ As  to  a Nisi  prins  lawyer  (said  Burke)  giving  an  opinion  on 
the  duration  of  an  Impeachment — as  well  might  a rahhit,  that  breeds  six  limes  a year 
pretend  to  know  any  thing  of  tlie  gestation  of  an  elephanl.’’ 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  4l 

wrong,  the  pedantic,  and  the  unstatesmanlike  side  of  the  ques- 
tion,— while  in  all  these  indications  of  the  spirit  of  that  profes- 
sion, and  of  its  propensity  to  tie  down  the  giant  Truth,  with  its 
small  threads  of  technicality  and  precedent,  we  perceive  the  dan- 
ger to  be  apprehended  from  the  interference  of  such  a spirit  in 
politics,  on  the  other  side,  arrayed  against  these  petty  tactics  of 
the  Forum,  we  see  the  broad  banner  of  Constitutional  Law,  up- 
held alike  by  a Fox  and  a Pitt,  a Sheridan  and  aDundas,  and 
find  truth  and  good  sense  taking  refuge  from  the  equivocations 
of  lawyers,  in  such  consoling  documents  as  the  Report  upon  the 
Abuses  of  the  Trial  by  Burke — a document  which,  if  ever  a re- 
form of  the  English  law  should  be  attempted,  will  stand  as  a 
great  guiding  light  to  the  adventurers  in  that  heroic  enterprise. 

It  has  been  frequently  asserted,  that  on  the  evening  of  Mr. 
Sheridan’s  grand  display  in  the  House  of  Commons,  The  School 
for  Scandal  and  the  Duenna  w'ere  acted  at  Covent  Garden  and 
Drury  Lane,  and  thus  three  great  audiences  were  at  the  same 
moment  amused,  agitated,  and,  as  it  were,  wielded  by  the  intellect 
of  one  man.  As  this  triple  triumph  of  talent — this  manifestation 
of  the  power  of  Genius  to  multiply  itself,  like  an  Indian  god — 
was,  in  the  instance  of  Sheridan,  not  only^  possible,  but  within  the 
scope  of  a very  easy  arrangement,  it  is  to  be  lamented  that  no 
such  coincidence  did  actually  take  place,  and  that  the  ability  to 
have  achieved  the  miracle  is  all  that  can  be  with  truth  attributed 
to  him.  From  a careful  examination  of  the  play- bills  of  tii3 
diiferent  theatres  during  this  period,  I have  ascertained,  with  re- 
gret, that  neither  on  the  evening  of  the  speech  in  the  House  e»f 
Commons,  nor  on  any  of  the  days  of  the  oration  in  Westminster 
Hall,  was  there,  either  at  Covent-Garden,  Drury-Lane,  or  Hay- 
market  theatres,  any  piece  w^hatever  of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  acted. 

The  following  passages  of  a letter  from  Miss  Sheridan  to  her 
sister  in  Ireland,  written  while  on  a visit  with  her  brother  in 
London,  though  referring  to  a later  period  of  the  Trial,  may  with- 
out impropriety  be  inserted  here  : — 

“ Just  as  I received  your  letter  yesterday,  I was  setting  out  for 


42 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


the  Trial  with  Mrs.  Crewe  and  Mrs.  Dixon.  I was  fortunate  in  my 
day,  as  I heard  all  the  principal  speakers — Mr.  Burke  I admired 
the  least — Mr.  Fox  very  much  indeed.  The  subject  in  itself  was 
not  particularly  interesting,  as  the  debate  turned  merely  on  a point 
of  law,  but  the  earnestness  of  his  manner  and  the  amazing  pre- 
cision with  which  he  conveys  his  ideas  is  truly  delightful.  And 
last,  iiot  least,  1 heard  my  brother ! I cannot  express  to  you  the 
sensation  of  pleasure  and  pride  that  filled  my  heart  at  the  mo- 
ment he  rose.  Had  I never  seen  him  or  heard  his  name  before, 
I should  have  conceived  him  the  first  man  among  them  at  once. 
There  is  a dignity  and  grace  in  his  countenance  and  deportment, 
very  striking — at  the  same  time  that  one  cannot  trace  the  smal- 
lest degree  of  conscious  superiority  in  his  manner.  His  voice, 
too,  appeared  to  me  extremely  fine.  The  speech  itself  was  not 
much  calculated  to  display  the  talents  of  an  orator,  as  of  course  it 
related  only  to  dry  matter.  You  may  suppose  I am  not  so  lavish 
of  praises  before  indifferent  persons,  but  I am  sure  you  will  ac- 
quit me  of  partiality  in  what  I have  said.  When  they  left  the 
Hall  we  walked  about  some  time,  and  were  joined  by  several  of 
the  managers — among  the  rest  by  Mr.  Burke,  whom  we  set  down 
at  his  own  house.  They  seem  now  to  have  better  hopes  of  the 
business  than  they  have  had  for  some  time ; as  the  point  urged 
with  so  much  force  and  apparent  success  relates  to  very  material 
evidence  which  the  Lords  have  refused  to  hear,  but  which,  once 
produced,  must  prove  strongly  against  Mr.  Hastings ; and,  from 
what  passed  yesterday,  they  think,  their  Lordships  must  yield. 
— We  sat  in  the  King’s  box,”  &c. 


RIGHT  UOxV.  IIICHAIID  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  43 


CHAPTER  II. 

1)1i:ATH  of  MR.  SHERIDAN’S  FATHER. — VERSES  BY  MRS.  SHER 
IDAN  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HER  SISTER,  MRS.  TICKELL. 

In  the  summer  of  this  year  the  father  of  Mr.  Sheridan  died. 
He  had  been  recommended  to  try  the  air  of  Lisbon  for  his 
health,  and  had  left  Dublin  for  that  purpose,  accompanied  by 
his  younger  daughter.  But  the  rapid  increase  of  his  malady 
prevented  him  from  proceeding  farther  than  Margate,  where  he 
died  about  the  beginning  of  August,  attended  in  his  last  moments 
by  his  son  Richard. 

We  have  seen  with  what  harshness,  to  use  no  stronger  term, 
Mr.  Sheridan  was  for  many  years  treated  by  his  father,  and  how 
persevering  and  affectionate  were  the , efforts,  in  spite  of  many 
capricious  repulses,  that  he  made  to  be  restored  to  forgiveness 
and  favor.  In  his  happiest  moments,  both  of  love  and  fame,  the 
thought  of  being  excluded  from  the  paternal  roof  came  across 
him  with  a chill  that  seemed  to  sadden  all  his  triumph."^  When 
it  is  considered,  too,  that  the  father,  to  whom  he  felt  thus  amia- 
bly, had  never  distinguished  him  by  any  particular  kindness, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  had  always  shown  a marked  preference  for 
the  disposition  and  abilities  of  his  brother  Charles — it  is  impos?- 
sible  not  to  acknowledge,  in  such  true  mial  affection,  a proof 
that  talent  was  not  the  only  ornament  of  Sheridan,  and  that, 
ho'^.^ever  unfivcfrable  to  moral  culture  was  the  life  that  he  led, 
Nature,  in  forming  his  mind,  had  implanted  there  virtue,  as 
web'  as  genius. 

Of  the  tender  attention  which  he  paid  to  his  father  on  his 

* See  ine  letter  written  by  him  immediately  after  his  marriage,  vol.  i.  page  80,  and  the 
anecdote  in  page  111,  same  vol, 


44 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


death-bed,  I am  enabled  to  lay  before  the  reader  no  less  a testi- 
mony than  the  letters  written  at  the  time  by  Miss  Sheridan, 
who,  as  I have  already  said,  accompanied  the  old  gentleman 
from  Ireland,  and  now  shared  with  her  brother  the  task  of  com- 
forting his  last  moments.  And  here, — it  is  difficult  even  for 
contempt  to  keep  down  the  indignation,  that  one  cannot  but  fee] 
at  those  slanderers,  under  the  name  of  biographers,  who  calling 
in  Jiialice  to  the  aid  of  their  ignorance,  have  not  scrupled  to  jvs- 
sert  that  the  father  of  Sheridan  died  unattended  by  any  of  his 
nearest  relatives  ! — Such  are  ever  the  marks  that  Dulness  leaves 
behind,  in  its  Gothic  irruptions  into  the  sanctuary  of  departed 
Genius — defacing  what  it  cannot  understand,  polluting  what  it 
has  not  the  soul  to  reverence,  and  taking  ■ revenge  for  its  own 
darkness,  by  the  wanton  profanation  of  all  that  is  sacred  in  the 
eyes  of  others. 

Immediately  on  the  death  of  their  father,  Sheridan  removed 
his  sister  to  Deepden — a seat  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  in  Surrey, 
which  His  Grace  had  lately  lent  him — and  then  returned,  him- 
self, to  Margate,  to  pay  the  last  tribute  to  his  father’s  remains.  The 
letters  of  Miss  Sheridan  are  addressed  to  her  elder  sister  in  Ireland, 
and  the  first  which  I shall  give  entire,  was  written  a day  or  two 
after  her  arrival  at  Deepden. 

“ My  Dear  Love,  Dihden^  Avgust  18. 

“ Though  you  have  ever  been  uppermost  in  my  thoughts, 
yet  it  has  not  been  in  my  power  to  write  since  the  few  lines  I 
sent  from  Margate.  I hope  this  will  find  yon,  in  some  degree, 
recovered  from  the  shock  you  must  have  experienced  from  the 
late  melancholy  event.  I trust  to  your  own  piety  and  the  ten- 
derness of  your  worthy  husband,  for  procuring  you  such  a de- 
gree of  calmness  of  mind  as  may  secure  your  health  from  injury. 
In  the  midst  of  what  I have  snlfered  I have  been  thankful  that 
you  did  not  share  a scene  of  distress  which  you  could  not  have 
relieved.  I have  supported  Inyself,  but  I am  sure,  had  we  been 
together,  we  should  have  sutrer('d  more. 

“ With  regard  to  my  brother’s  kindness,  I can  scarcely  ex 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  46 

press  to  you  how  great  it  has  been,  lie  saw  iny  father  Tvhile  he 
was  still  sensible,  and  never  quitted  him  till  the  awful  moment  was 
past — 1 will  not  now  dwell  on  particulars.  My  mind  is  not  suf- 
ficiently recovered  to  enter  on  the  subject,  and  you  could  only 
be  distressed  by  it.  He  returns  soon  to  Margate  to  pay  the 
last  duties  in  the  manner  desired  by  my  father.  Ilis  feelings 
have  been  severely  tried,  and  earnestly  1 pray  he  may  not  suf- 
fer from  that  cause,  or  from  the  fatigue  he  has  endured.  His 
tenderness  to  me  1 never  can  forget.  I had  so  little  claim  on 
him,  that  I still  feel  a degree  of  surprise  mixed  with  my  grati- 
tude. Mrs.  Sheridan’s  reception  of  me  was  truly  affectionate. 
They  leave  me  to  myself  now  as  much  as  I please,  as  I had  gone 
through  so  much  fatigue  of  body  and  mind  that  I require  some 
rest.  I have  not,  as  you  may  suppose,  looked  much  beyond  the 
present  hour,  but  I begin  to  be  more  composed.  I could  now 
enjoy  your  society,  and  I wish  for  it  hourly.  I should  think  I 
may  hope  to  see  you  sooner  in  England  than  you  had  intended; 
but  you  will  write  to  me  very  soon,  and  let  me  know  everything 
that  concerns  you.  I know  not  whether  you  will  feel  like  me  a 
melancholy  pleasure  in  the  reflection  that  my  father  received  the 
last  kind  offices  from  my  brother  Richard,'^  whose  conduct  on 
this  occasion  must  convince  every  one  of  the  goodness  of  his 
heart  and  the  truth  of  his  filial  affection.  One  more  reflection  of 
consolation  is,  that  nothing  was  omitted  that  could  have  prolonged 
his  life  or  eased  his  latter  hours.  God  bless  and  preserve  you,  my 
dear  love.  1 shall  soon  write  more  to  you,  but  shall  for  a short 
time  sus])cnd  my  journal,  as  still  too  many  painful  thoughts  will 
crowd  upon  me  to  suffer  me  to  regain  such  a frame  of  mind  as  I 
should  wish  when  I write  to  you. 

‘‘  Ever  affectionately  your 

“ E.  Sheridan.” 

♦ In  a lellerj  from  which  I have  given  an  extract  in  the  early  part  of  this  volume,  wiit- 
teu  by  the  elder  sister  of  Sheridan  a short  time  after  his  death,  in  referring  to  the  differ- 
ences that  existed  between  him  and  his  father,  she  says — “ and  yet  it  was  lliat  son,  and 
not  the  object  of  his  partial  fondness,  who  at  last  closed  his  eyes.”  It  generally  hap- 
pens Uial  the  injustice  of  siu.h  panialities  is  revenged  by  the  ingratitude  of  those  who  are 


46 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


In  another  letter,  dated  ii  few  days  after,  she  gives  an  account 
of  the  domestic  life  of  Mrs.  Sheridan,  which,  like  everything  that 
is  related  of  that  most  interesting  woman,  excites  a feeling  to- 
wards her  memory,  little  short  of  love. 

“ My  Dear  Love,  Dihden,  Friday ^ 22. 

“ I shall  endeavor  to  resume  my  journal,  though  my  anxiety 
to  hear  from  you^occupies  my  mind  in  a way  that  unfits  m6  for 
writing.  I have  been  here  almost  a week  in  perfect  quiet. 
While  there  was  company  in  the  house,  I stayed  in  my  room, 
and  since  my  brother’s  leaving  us  to  go  to  Margate,  I have  sat 
at  times  with  Mrs.  Sheridan,  who  is  kind  and  considerate ; so  that 
I have  entire  liberty.  Her  poor  sister’s*  children  are  all  with 
her.  The  girl  gives  her  constant  employment,  and  seems  to 
profit  by  being  under  so  good  an  instructor.  Their  father  was 
here  for  some  days,  but  I did  not  see  him.  Last  night  Mrs  S. 
showed  me  a picture  of  Mrs.  Tickell,  which  she  wears  round 
her  neck.  The  thing  was  misrepresented  to  you  ; — it  was  not 
done  after  her  death,  but  a short  time  before  it.  The  sketch 
was  taken  while  she  slept,  by  a painter  at  Bristol.  This  Mrs. 
Sheridan  got  copied  by  Cosway,  who  has  softened  down  the  tra- 
ces of  illness  in  such  a way  that  the  picture  conveys  no  gloomy 
idea.  It  represents  her  in  a sweet  sleep  ; which  must  have  been 
soothing  to  her  friend,  after  seeing  her  for  a length  of  time  in  a 
state  of  constant  suffering. 

“ My  brother  left  us  W ednesday  morning,  and  we  do  not  ex 
pect  him  to  return  for  some  days.  He  meant  only  to  stay  at 
Margate  long  enough  to  attend  the  last  melancholy  office,  which 
it  was  my  poor  father’s  express  desire  should  be  performed  in 
whatever  parish  he  died. 

*^  *****  * 

‘‘  Sunday, 

“Dick  is  still  in  town,  and  we  do  not  expect  him  for  some 
time.  Mrs.  Sheridan  seems  now  quite  reconciled  to  these  little 

.he  objects  of  them  ; and  the  present  instance,  as  there  is  but  toe  much  reason  to  believe, 
was  not  altogether  an  exception  to  the  remark. 

•Airs.  Tickell. 


Mam  HOK-.  RICilAtlB  brinbley  sheribak.  a? 


absences,  which  she  knows  are  unavoidable.  1 never  saw  any  one 
so  constant  in  employing  every  moment  of  her  time,  and  to  that 
I attribute,  in  a great  measure,  the  recovery  of  her  health  and 
spirits.  The  education  of  her  niece,  her  music,  books,  and  work, 
occupy  every  minute  of  the  day.  After  dinner,  the  children,  who 
call  her  ‘‘  Mamma-aunt,”  spend  some  time  with  us,  and  her  man- 
ner to  them  is  truly  delightful.  The  girl,  you  know,  is  the  eldest. 
The  eldest  boy  is  about  five  years  old,  very  like  his  father,  but 
extremely  gentle  in  his  manners.  The  youngest  is  past  three. 
The  whole  set  then  retire  to  the  musioroom.  As  yet  I cannot 
enjoy  their  parties  ; — a song  from  Mrs.  Sheridan  affected  me  last 
night  in  a most  painful  manner.  I shall  not  try  the  experiment 
soon  again.  Mrs,  S.  blamed  herself  for  putting  me  to  the  trial, 
and,  after  tea,  got  a book,  which  she  read  to  us  till  supper.  This, 
I find,  IS  ine^ general  way  of  passing  the  evening. 

“ They  are  now  at  their  music,  and  I have  retired  to  add  a few 
lines.  This  day  has  been  more  gloomy  than  we  have  been  for 
some  days  past ; — it  it  the  first  day  of  our  getting  into  mourning. 
All  the  servants  in  deep  mourning  made  a melancholy  appear- 
ance, and  I found  it  very  difficult  to  sit  out  the  dinner.  But  as 
I have  dined  below  since  there  has  been  only  Mrs.  Sheridan  and 
Miss  Liriley  here,  I would  not  suffer  a circumstance,  to  which  I 
must  accustom  myself,  to  break  in  on  their  comfort.” 

These  children,  to  whom  Mrs.  Sheridan  thus  wholly  devoted 
herself,  and  continued  to  do  so  for  the  remainder  of  her  life,  had 
lost  their  mother,  Mrs.  Tick  ell,  in  the  year  1787,  by  the  same 
3omplaint  that  afterwards  proved  fated  to  their  aunt.  The  pas- 
sionate attachment  of  Mrs.  Sheridan  to  this  sister,  and  the  deep 
gi‘ief  with  which  she  mourned  her  loss,  are  expressed  in  a poem 
of  her  own  so  touchingly,  that,  to  those  who  love  the  language  of 
real  feeling,  I need  not  apologize  for  their  introduction  here.  Poe- 
try, in  general,  is  but  a cold  interpreter  of  sorrow  ; and  the  more 
it  displays  its  skill,  as  an  art,  the  less  is  it  likely  to  do  justice  to 
nature.  In  writing  these  verses,  however,  the  workmanship  was 
^forgotten  in  the  subject ; and  the  critic,  to  feel  them  as  he  ought, 
should  forget  his  own  craft  in  reading  them. 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Written  in  the  Spring  of  the  Year  1788^ 

The  hours  and  days  pass  on  ; — sweet  Spring  returns^ 
And  whispers  comfort  to  the  heart  that  mourns  : 

But  not  to  mine,  whose  dear  and  cherish’d  grief 
Asks  for  indulgence,  but  ne’er  hopes  relief. 

For,  ah,  can  changing  seasons  e’er  restore 
The  lov’d  companion  I must  still  deplore  ? 

Shall  all  the  wisdom  of  the  world  combin’d 
Erase  thy  image,  Mary,  from  my  mind, 

Or  bid  me  hope  from  others  to  receive 
The  fond  affection  thou  alone  could’st  give  ? 

Ah,  no,  my  best  belov’d,  thou  still  shalt  be 
My  friend,  my  sister,  all  the  world  to  me. 

With  tender  woe  sad  memory  woos  back  time, 

And  paints  the  scenes  when  youth  was  in  its  prime  ; 

The  craggy  hill,  where  rocks,  with  wild  flow’rs  crown  d 
Burst  from  the  hazle  copse  or  verdant  ground  ; 

Where  sportive  nature  every  form  assumes. 

And,  gaily  lavish,  wastes  a thousand  blooms ; 

Where  oft  we  heard  the  echoing  hills  repeat 
Our  untaught  strains  and  rural  ditties  sweet. 

Till  purpling  clouds  proclaim’d  the  closing  day, 

While  distant  streams  detain’d  the  parting  ray. 

Then  on  some  mossy  stone  we’d  sit  us  down. 

And  watch  the  changing  sky  and  shadows  browii. 

That  swiftly  glided  o’er  the  mead  below, 

Or  in  some  fancied  form  descended  slow. 

How  oft,  well  pleas’d  each  other  to  adorn, 

W e stripp’d  the  blossoms  from  the  fragrant  thom^ 

Or  caught  the  violet  where,  in  humble  bed, 

Asham’d  of  its  own  sweets  it  hung  its  head. 

But,  oh,  what  rapture  Mary’s  eyes  would  speak. 

Through  her  dark  hair  how  rosy  glow’d  her  cheek. 

If,  in  her  playful  search,  she  saw  appear 
The  first-blown  cowslip  of  the  opening  year. 

Thy  gales,  oh  Spring,  then  whisper’d  life  and  joy 
Now  mem’ry  wakes  thy  pleasures  to  destroy, 

And  all  thy  beauties  serve  but  to  renew 
Regrets  too  keen  for  reason  to  subdue. 

Ah  me  ! while  tender  recollections  rise. 

The  ready  teai-s  obscure  my  sadden’d  eyes, 


iilGHT  HON.  RICHAlvO  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN 


And,  while  surrounding  objects  they  conceal, 

Her  form  belov’d  the  trembling  drops  reveal. 

“ Sometimes  the  lovely,  blooming  girl  I view, 

My  youth’s  companion,  friend  for  ever  true. 

Whose  looks,  the  sweet  expressions  of  her  heart 
So  gaily  innocent,  so  void  of  art. 

With  soft  attraction  whisper’d  blessings  drew 
From  all  who  stopp’d,  her  beauteous  face  to  view. 

Then  in  the  dear  domestic  scene  I mourn. 

And  weep  past  pleasures  never  to  return  ! 

There,  where  each  gentle  virtue  lov’d  to  rest. 

In  the  pure  mansion  of  my  Mary’s  breast. 

The  days  of  social  happiness  are  o’er. 

The  voice  of  harmony  is  heard  no  more  ; 

No  more  her  graceful  tenderness  shall  prove 
The  wife’s  fond  duty  or  the  parent’s  love. 

Those  eyes,  which  brighten’d  with  maternal  pride, 

As  her  sweet  infants  wanton’d  by  her  side, 

"Swas  my  sad  fate  to  see  for  ever  close 
On  life,  on  love,  the  world,  and  all  its  woes  , 

To  watch  the  slow  disease,  with  hopeless  care. 

And  veil  in  painful  smiles  my  heart’s  despair  ; 
tf  0 see  her  droop,  with  restless  languor  weak. 

While  fatal  beauty  mantled  in  her  cheek. 

Like  fresh  flow’rs  springing  from  some  mouldering  clay, 
Cherish’d  by  death,  and  blooming  from  decay. 

Ye^,  tho*  oppress’d  by  ever-varying  pain, 

The  gentle  sulierer  scarcely  would  complain. 

Hid  every  sigh,  each  trembling  doubt  reprov’d. 

To  spare  a pang  to  those  fond  hearts  she  lov’d. 

.\nd  often,  in  short  intervals  of  ease. 

Her  kind  and  cheerful  spirit  strove  to  please  ; 

Whilst  we,  alas,  unable  to  refuse 
The  sad  delight  we  were  so  soon  to  lose. 

Treasur’d  each  word,  each  kind  expression  claim’d, — 

^ ’Twas  me  she  look’d  at,’ — ‘ it  was  me  she  nam’d.’ 

Thuis  .ondly  soothing  grief,  too  great  to  bear. 

With  mournful  eagerness  and  jealous  care. 

But  soon,  alas,  from  hearts  with  sorrow  worn 
E’en  this  last  comfort  was  for  ever  torn  • 

That  mind,  the  seat  of  wisdom,  genius,  ta«Jte, 

The  cruel  hand  of  sickness  now  laid  waste ; 

6 


fOL.  II. 


MEMOiRS  OP  THE  LIFE  OP  TSP, 


Subdued  with  pain,  it  shar’d  the  common  lot. 

All,  all  its  lovely  energies  forgot  1 
The  husband,  parent,  sister,  knelt  in  vain, 

One  recollecting  look  alone  to  gain  : 

The  shades  of  night  her  beaming  eyes  obscur’d, 

And  Nature,  vanquish’d,  no  sharp  pain  endur’d  ; 
Calm  and  serene — till  the  last  trembling  breath 
Wafted  an  angel  from  the  bed  of  death  ! 

“ Oh,  if  the  soul,  releas’d  from  mortal  cares, 
Views  the  sad  scene,  the  voice  of  mourning  hears. 
Then,  dearest  saint,  didst  thou  thy  heav’n  forego, 
Lingering  on  earth  in  pity  to  our  woe. 

’Twas  thy  kind  influence  sooth’d  our  minds  to  peace 
And  bade  our  vain  and  selfish  murmurs  cease  ; 

’Twas  thy  soft  smile,  that  gave  the  worshipp’d  clay 
Of  thy  bright  essence  one  celestial  ray. 

Making  e’en  death  so  beautiful,  that  we. 

Gazing  on  it,  forgot  our  misery. 

Then— pleasing  thought ! — ere  to  the  realms  of  li^it 
Thy  franchis’d  spirit  took  its  happy  flight. 

With  fond  regard,  perhaps,  thou  saw’st  me  bwid 
O’er  the  cold  relics  of  my  heart ’t  best  friend. 

And  heard’st  me  swear,  while  her  dear  hand  I pres;. 
And  tears  of  agony  bedew’d  my  breast. 

For  her  lov’d  sake  to  act  the  mother’s  part, 

And  take  her  darling  infants  to  my  heart, 

With  tenderest  care  their  youthful  minds  improva 
And  guard  her  treasure  with  protecting  love. 

Once  more  look  down,  blest  creature,  and  behold 
These  arms  the  precious  innocence  enfold  ; 

Assist  my  erring  nature  to  fulfil 

The  sacred  trust,  and  ward  off  every  ill ! 

And,  oh,  let  her,  who  is  my  dearest  care, 

Thy  blest  regard  and  heavenly  influence  share  • 
Teach  me  to  form  her  pure  and  artless  mind, 

Like  thine,  as  true,  as  innocent,  as  kind, — 

That  when  some  future  day  my  hopes  shall  blesa 
And  every  voice  her  virtue  shall  confess, 

When  my  fond  hekrt  delighted  hears  her  praise. 

As  with  unconscious  loveliness  she  strays, 

‘ Such,’  let  me  say,  with  tears  of  joy  the  while, 

* Such  was  the  softness  of  my  Mary’s  smile  ; 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN,  51 

Such  was  her  youth,  so  blithe,  so  rosy  sweet, 

And  such  her  mind,  unpractis’d  in  deceit ; 

With  artless  elegance,  unstudied  gi*ace, 

Thus  did  she  gain  in  every  heart  a place  I’ 

Then,  while  the  dear  remembrance  I behold, 

Time  shall  steal  on,  nor  tell  me  I am  old, 

Till,  nature  wearied,  each  fond  duty  o’er, 

I join  my  Angel  Friend — to  part  no  more !” 

To  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  during  the  last  moments  of  his 
father,  a further  testimony  has  been  kindly  communicated  to  me 
by  Mr.  Jarvis,  a medical  gentleman  of  Margate,  who  attended 
Mr.  Thomas  Sheridan  on  that  occasion,  and  whose  interesting 
communication  I shall  here  give  in  his  own  words  : — 

“ On  the  10th  of  August,  1788,  I was  first  called  on  to  visit 
Mr.  Sheridan,  who  was  then  fast  declining  at  his  lodgings  in  this 
place,  where  he  was  in  the  care  of  his  daughter.  On  the  next 
day  Mr.  E.  B.  Sheridan  arrived  here  from  town,  having  brought 
with  him  Dr.  Morris,  of  Parliament  street.  1 was  in  the  bed- 
room with  Mr.  Sheridan  when  the  son  arrived,  and  witnessed  an 
interview  in  which  the  father  showed  himself  to  be  strongly  im- 
pressed by  his  son’s  attention,  saying  with  considerable  emotion, 
‘ Oh  Dick,  I give  you  a great  deal  of  trouble  !’  and  seeming  to 
imply  by  his  manner,  that  his  son  had  been  less  to  blame  than 
himself,  for  any  previous  want  of  cordiality  between  them. 

“ On  my  making  my  last  call  for  the  evening,  Mr.  R.  B.  Sher- 
idan, with  delicacy,  but  much  earnestness,  expressed  his  fear  that 
the  nurse  in  attendance  on  his  father,  might  not  be  so  competent 
as  myself  to  the  requisite  attentions,  and  his  hope  that  I would 
consent  to  remain  in  the  room  for  a few  of  the  first  hours  of  the 
night ; as  he  himself,  having  been  travelling  the  preceding  night, 
required  some  short  repose.  I complied  with  his  request,  and 
remained  at  the  father’s  bed-side  till  relieved  by  the  son,  about 
three  o’clock  in  the  morning : — he  then  insisted  on  taking  my 
place.  From  this  time  he  never  quitted  the  house  till  his  father’s 
death  ; on  the  day  after  which  he  wrote  me  a letter,  now  before 
me,  of  which  the  annexed  is  an  exact  copy : 


62 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


‘ Sir,  Friday  Morning, 

‘ I wished  to  see  you  this  morning  before  I went,  to  thank  you 
for  your  attention  and  trouble.  You  will  be  so  good  to  give  the 
account  to  Mr.  Thompson,  who  will  settle  it ; and  I must  further 
beg  your  acceptance  of  the  inclosed  from  myself. 

‘ I am.  Sir, 

‘ Your  obedient  Servant, 

‘R.  B.  Sheridan. 

‘ I have  explained  to  Dr.  Morris  (who  has  informed  me  that  you 
will  recommend  a proper  person),  that  it  is  my  desire  to  have 
the  hearse,  and  the  manner  of  coming  to  town,  as  respectful  as 
possible.’ 

“ The  inclosure,  referred  to  in  this  letter,  was  a bank-note  of  ten 
pounds, — a ijiost  liberal  remuneration.  Mr.  R.  B.  Sheridan  left 
Margate,  intending  that  his  father  should  be  buried  in  London  ; 
but  he  there  ascertained  that  it  had  been  his  father’s  expressed 
wish  that  he  should  be  buried  in  the  parish  next  to  that  in  which 
he  should  happen  to  die.  He  then,  consequently,  returned  to 
Margate,  accompanied  by  his  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Tickell,  with 
whom  and  Mr.  Thompson  and  myself,  he  followed  his  father’s 
remains  to  the  burial-place,  which  \yas  not  in  Margate  church-yard, 
but  in  the  north  aisle  of  the  church  of  St.  Peter’s.” 

Mr.  Jarvis,  the  writer  of  the  letter  from  which  I have  given 
this  extract,  had  once,  as  he  informs  me,  the  intention  of  having 
a cenotaph  raised,  to  the  memory  of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  father,  in 
the  church  of  Margate."^  With  this  view  he  applied  to  Dr.  Parr 
for  an  Inscription,  and  the  following  is  the  tribute  to  his  old 
friend  with  which  that  learned  and  kind-hearted  man  supplied 
him : — 

This  monument,  A.  D.  1824,  was,  by  subscription,  erected  to  the  memo- 
ry of  Thomas  Sheridan,  Esq.,  who  died  in  the  neighboring  parish  of  St. 

* Though  this  idea  was  relinquished,  it  appears  that  a friend  of  Mr.  Jarvis,  with  a zeal 
for  the  memory  of  talent  highly  honorable  to  him,  has  recently  caused  a monument  to 
Mr.  Thomas  Sheridan  to  be  raised  in  the  church  of  St.  Peter. 


EIGHT  HON.  EICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  53 


John,  August  14,  1788,  in  the  69th  year  of  his  age,  and,  according  to  his 
own  request,  was  there  buried.  He  was  grandson  to  Dr.  Thomas  Sheridan, 
the  brother  of  Dr.  William,  a conscientious  non-juror,  who,  in  1691,  was 
deprived  of  the  Bishopric  of  Kilmore.  He  was  the  son  of  Dr.  Thomas 
Sheridan,  a profound  scholar  and  eminent  schoolmaster,  intimately  connect- 
ed with  Dean  Swift  and  other  illustrious  writers  in  the  reign  of  Queen 
Anne.  He  was  husband  to  the  ingenious  and  amiable  author  of  Sidney 
Biddulph  and  several  dramatic  pieces  favorably  received.  He  was  father 
of  the  celebrated  orator  and  dramatist,  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan.  He 
had  been  the  schoolfellow,  and,  through  life,  was  the  companion,  of  the 
amiable  Archbishop  Markham.  He  was  the  friend  of  the  learned  Dr.  Sum- 
ner, master  of  Harrow  School,  and  the  well-known  Dr.  Parr.  He  took  his 
first  academical  degree  in  the  University  of  Dublin,  about  1738.  He  was 
honored  by  the  University  of  Oxford  with  the  degree  of  A.  M.  in  1758, 
and  in  1759  he  obtained  the  same  distinction  at  Cambridge.  He,  for  many 
years,  presided  over  the  theatre  of  Dublin  ; and,  at  Drury  Lane,  he  in  public 
estimation  stood  next  to  David  Garrick.  In  the  literary  world  he  was  dis- 
tinguished by  numerous  and  useful  writings  on  the  pronunciation  of  the 
English  language.  Through  some  of  his  opinions  ran  a veki  of  singularity, 
mingled  with  the  rich  ore  of  genius.  In  his  manners  there  was  dignified 
ease  ; — in  his  spirit,  invincible  firmness  ; — and  in  his  habits  and  principles 
unsullied  integrity.’’ 


54 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


CHAPTER  ni. 

ILLNESS  OF  THE  KING. — REGENCY. — PRIVATE  LIFE  OF  MR. 

SHERIDAN. 

Mr.  Sheridan  had  assuredly  no  reason  to  complain  of  any 
deficiency  of  excitement  in  the  new  career  to  which  he  now  devot- 
ed himself.  A succession  of  great  questions,  both  foreign  and 
domestic,  came,  one  after  the  other,  like  the  waves  described  by 
the  poet, — 

And  one  no  sooner  touched  the  shore,  and  died, 

Than  a new  follower  rose,  and  swelPd  as  proudly.” 

Scarcely  had  the  impulse,  which  his  own  genius  had  given  to 
the  prosecution  of  Hastings,  begun  to  abate,  when  tne  indisposi- 
tion of  the  King  opened  another  field,  not  only  for  the  display  of 
all  his  various  powers,  but  for  the  fondest  speculations  of  his  in- 
terest and  ambition. 

The  robust  health  and  temperate  habits  of  the  Monarch,  while 
they  held  out  the  temptation  of  a long  lease  of  power,  to  those 
who  either  enjoyed  or  were  inclined  to  speculate  in  his  favor, 
gave  proportionably  the  grace  of  disinterestedness  to  the  follow- 
ers of  an  Heir- Apparent,  whose  means  of  rewarding  their  devo- 
tion were,  from  the  same  causes,  uncertain  and  remote.  The 
alarming  illness  of  the  Monarch,  however,  gave  a new  turn  to  the 
prospect : — Hope  was  now  seen,  like  the  winged  Victory  of  the 
ancients,  to  change  sides ; and  both  the  expectations  of  those  who 
looked  forward  to  the  reign  of  the  Prince,  as  the  great  and  happy 
millennium  of  Whiggism,  and  the  apprehensions  of  the  far 
greater  number,  to  whom  the  morals  of  his  Royal  Highness  and 
his  friends  were  not  less  formidable  than  their  politics,  seemed 
now  on  the  very  eve  of  being  realized. 


I 

RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  55 

On  the  first  meeting  of  Parliament,  after  the  illness  of  His 
Majesty  was  known,  it  was  resolved,  from  considerations  of  deli- 
cacy, that  the  House  should  adjourn  for  a fortnight ; at  the  end 
of  which  period  it  was  expected  that  another  short  adjournment 
would  be  proposed  by  the  Minister.  In  this  interval,  the  fol- 
lowing judicious  letter  was  addressed  to  the  Prince  of  Wales  by 
Mr.  Sheridan : — 

“ Sir, 

“ From  the  intelligence  of  to-day  we  are  led  to  think  that  Pitt 
will  make  something  more  of  a speech,  in  moving  to  adjourn  on 
Thursday,  than  was  at  first  imagined.  In  this  case  we  presume 
Your  Royal  Highness  will  be  of  opinion  that  we  must  not  be 
wholly  silent.  I possessed  Payne  yesterday  with  my  sentiments 
on  the  line  of  conduct  which  appeared  to  me  best  to  be  adopted 
on  this  occasion,  that  they  might  be  submitted  to  Your  Royal 
Highness’s  consideration  ; and  I take  the  liberty  of  repeating  my 
firm  coimction,  that  it  will  greatly  advance  Your  Royal  High- 
ness’s credit,  and,  in  case  of  events,  lay  the  strongest  grounds  to 
baffle  every  attempt  at  opposition  to  Your  Royal  Highness’s  just 
claims  and  right,  that  the  language  of  those  who  may  be,  in  any 
sort,  suspected  of  knowing  Your  Royal  Highness’s  wishes  and 
feelings,  should  be  that  of  great  moderation  in  disclaiming  all 
party  views,  and  avowing  the  utmost  readiness  to  acquiesce  in 
any  reasonable  delay.  At  the  same  time,  I am  perfectly  aware 
of  the  arts  which  will  be  practised,  and  the  advantages  which 
some  people  will  attempt  to  gain  by  time : but  I am  equally  con- 
vinced that  we  should  advance  their  evil  views  by  showing  the 
least  impatience  or  suspicion  at  present ; and  I am  also  convinced 
that  a third  party  will  soon  appear,  whose  efforts  may,  in  the 
most  decisive  manner,  prevent  this  sort  of  situation  and  proceed- 
ing from  continuing  long.  Payne  will  probably  have  submitted 
to  Your  Royal  Highness  more  fully  my  idea  on  this  subject, 
towards  which  I have  already  taken  some  successful  steps.* 
Your  Royal  Highness  will,  I am  sure,  have  the  goodness  to  par- 


* This  must  allude  to  the  ne|;oliation  with  Lord  Tliurlpw. 


56 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


don  the  freedom  with  which  I give  my  opinion  ; — after  which  ] 
have  only  to  add,  that  whatever  Your  Royal  Highness’s  judgment 
decides,  shall  be  the  guide  of  my  conduct,  and  will  undoubtedly 
be  so  to  others.” 

Captain  (afterwards  Admiral)  Payne,  of  whom  mention  is 
made  in  this  letter,  held  the  situation  of  Comptroller  of  the 
Household  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  was  in  attendance  upon 
His  Royal  Highness,  during  the  early  part  of  the  King’s  illness,  at 
Windsor.  The  following  letters,  addressed  by  him  to  Mr.  She- 
ridan at  this  period,  contain  some  curious  particulars,  both  with 
respect  to  the  Royal  patient  himself,  and  the  feelings  of  those 
about  him,  which,  however  secret  and  confidential  they  were  at 
the  time,  may  now,  without  scruple,  be  made  matters  of  his- 
tory 

“ My  dear  Sheridan,  Half  past  ten  at  night 

“ I arrived  here  about  three  quarters  of  an  hour  after  Pitt  had 
left  it.  I inclose  you  the  copy  of  a letter  the  Prince  has  just 
written  to  the  Chancellor,  and  sent  by  express,  which  will  give 
you  the  outline  of  the  conversation  with  the  Prince,  as  well  as 
the  situation  of  the  King’s  health.  I think  it  an  advisable  mea- 
sure,^ as  it  is  a sword  that  cuts  both  ways,  without  being  unfit  to 
be  shown  to  whom  he  pleases, — but  which  he  will,  I think,  under- 
stand best  himself.  Pitt  desired  the  longest  delay  that  could  be 
granted  with  propriety,  previous  to  the  declaration  of  the  pre- 
sent calamity.  The  Duke  of  York,  who  is  looking  over  me,  and 
is  just  come  out  of  the  King’s  room,  bids  me  add  that  His 
Majesty’s  situation  is  every  moment  becoming  worse.  His  pulse 
is  weaker  and  weaker  ; and  the  Doctors  say  it  is  impossible  to 
survive  it  long,  if  his  situation  does  not  take  some  extraordinary 
change  in  a few  hours. 

So  far  I had  got  when  your  servant  came,  meaning  to  send 
this  by  the  express  that  carried  the  Chancellor’s  letter ; in  addi- 
tion to  which,  the  Prince  has  desired  Doctor  Warren  to  write  an 


Xrpanin^,  the  comrnutiicalion  to  the  Chancellor. 


RIGHT  HOK.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  57 


account  to  him,  which  he  is  now  doing.  His  letter  says,  if  an 
amendment  does  not  take  place  in  twenty  four  hours,  it  is  impos- 
sible for  the  King  to  support  it : — he  adds  to  me,  he  will  answer 
for  his  never  living  to  be  declared  a lunatic.  say  all  this  to 
you  in  confidence,  (though  I will  not  answer  for  being  intelligi- 
ble,) as  it  goes  by  your  own  servant ; but  I need  not  add,  your 
own  discretion  will  remind  you  how  necessary  it  is  that  neither 
my  name  nor  those  I use  should  be  quoted  even  to  many  of  our 
best  friends,  whose  repetition,  without  any  ill  intention,  might 
frustrate  views  they  do  not  see. 

“ With  respect  to  the  papers,  the  Prince  thinks  you  had  better 
leave  them  to  themselves,  as  we  cannot  authorize  any  report, 
nor  can  he  contradict  the  worst ; a few  hours  must,  every  indi- 
vidual says,  terminate  our  suspense,  and,  therefore,  all  precaution 
must  be  needless : — however,  do  what  you  think  best.  His  Roy- 
al Highness  would  write  to  you  himself ; the  agitation  he  is  in 
will  not  permit  it.  Since  this  letter  was  begun,  all  articulation 
even  seems  to  be  at  an  end  with  the  poor  King : but  for  the 
two  hours  preceding,  he  was  in  a most  determined  frenzy.  In 
short,  I am  myself  in  so  violent  a state  of  agitation,  from  partici- 
pating in  the  feelings  of  those  about  me,  that  if  I am  intelligible 
to  you,  ’tis  more  than  I am  to  myself.  Cataplasms  are  on  his 
Majesty’s  feet,  and  strong  fomentations  have  been  used  without 
effect : but  let  me  quit  so  painful  a subject.  The  Prince  was 
much  pleased  with  my  conversation  with  Lord  Loughborough, 
to  whom  I do  not  write,  as  I conceive  ’tis  the  same,  writing  to 
you. 

“ The  Archbishop  has  written  a very  handsome  letter,  expres- 
sive of  his  duty  and  offer  of  service ; but  he  is  not  required  to 
come  down,  it  being  thought  too  late. 

“ Good  night. — I will  write  upon  every  occasion  that  infor- 
mation may  be  useful. 

“ Ever  yours,  most  sincerely, 

“J.  W.  Payne. 

“ I have  been  much  pleased  with  the  Duke's  zeal  since  my  ro 
turn,  especially  in  this  communication  to  you.” 

ypL.  II,  3^ 


58 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Dear  Sheridan,  Twelve  o'clock^  noon. 

“ The  King  last  night  about  twelve  o’clock,  being  then  in  a 
situation  he  could  not  long  have  survived,  by  the  effect  of  James’s 
powder,  had  a profuse  stool,  after  which  a strong  perspiration 
appeared,  and  he  fell  into  a profound  sleep.  We  were  in  hopes 
this  was  the  crisis  of  his  disorder,  although  the  doctors  were 
fearful  it  was  so  only  with  respect  to  one  part  of  his  disorder. 
However,  these  hopes  continued  not  above  an  hour,  when  he 
awoke,  with  a well-conditioned  skin,  no  extraordinary  degree  of 
fever,  but  with  the  exact  state  he  was  in  before,  with  all  the  ges- 
tures and  ravings  of  the  most  confirmed  maniac,  and  a new  noise, 
in  imitation  of  the  howling  of  a dog ; in  this  situation  he  was  this 
morning  at  one  o’clock,  when  we  came  to  bed.  The  Duke  of 
York,  who  has  been  twice  in  my  room  in  the  course  of  the  night, 
immediately  from  the  King’s  apartment,  says  there  has  not  been 
one  moment  of  lucid  interval  during  the  whole  night, — which,  I 
must  observe  to  you,  is  the  concurring,  as  well  as  fatal  testimony 
of  all  about  him,  from  the  first  moment  of  His  Majesty’s  con- 
finement. The  doctors  have  since  had  their  consultation,  and  find 
His  Majesty  calmer,  and  his  pulse  tolerably  good  and  much  re- 
duced, but  the  most  decided  symptoms  of  insanity.  His  theme 
has  been  all  this  day  on  the  subject  of  religion,  and  of  his  being 
inspired,  from  which  his  physicians  draw  the  worst  consequences^ 
as  to  any  hopes  of  amendment.  In  this  situation  His  Majesty 
remains  at  the  present  moment,  which  I give  you  at  length,  to 
prevent  your  giving  credit  to  the  thousand  ridiculous  reports 
that  we  hear,  even  upon  the  spot.  Truth  is  not  easily  got  at  in 
palaces,  and  so  I find  here ; and  time  only  slowly  brings  it  to 
one’s  knowledge.  One  hears  a little  bit  every  day  from  some- 
body, that  has  been  reserved  with  great  costiveness,  or  purposely 
forgotten ; and  by  all  such  accounts  I find  that  the  present  dis- 
temper has  been  very  palpable  for  some  time  past,  previous  to 
any  confinement  from  sickness ; and  so  apprehensive  have  the 
people  about  him  been  of  giving  offence  by  interruption,  that  the 
two  days  (viz.  yesterday  se’nnight  and  the  Monday  following) 
f;hat  he  was  five  hours  each  on  horseback,  he  was  in  a confirined 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  59 

frenzy.  On  the  Monday  at  his  return  he  burst  out  into  tears  to 
the  Duke  of  York,  and  said,  ‘ He  wished  to  God  he  might  die, 
for  he  was  going  to  be  mad and  the  Queen,  who  sent  to  Dr. 
Warren,  on  his  arrival,  privately  communicated  her  knowledge 
of  his  situation  for  some  time  past,  and  the  melancholy  event  as 
it  stood  exposed.  I am  prolix  upon  all  these  different  reports, 
that  you  may  be  completely  master  of  the  subject  as  it  stands, 
and  which  I shall  continue  to  advertise  you  of  in  all  its  variations. 
Warren,  who  is  the  living  principle  in  this  business,  (for  poor 
Baker  is  half  crazed  himself,)  and  who  1 see  every  half  hour, 
is  extremely  attentive  to  the  King’s  disorder.  The  various  fluc- 
tuations of  his  ravings,  as  well  as  general  situation  of  his  health, 
are  accurately  written  down  throughout  the  day,  and  this  we  have 
got  signed  by  the  Physicians  every  day,  and  all  proper  inquiry 
invited ; for  I think  it  necessary  to  do  every  thing  that  may  pre- 
vent their  making  use  hereafter  of  any  thing  like  jealousy,  sus- 
picion, or  mystery,  to  create  public  distrust ; and,  therefore,  the 
best  and  most  unequivocal  means  of  satisfaction  shall  be  always 
attended  to. 

“ Five  o'clock,  P,  M, 

“ So  far  I had  proceeded  when  I was,  on  some  business  of 
importance,  obliged  to  break  off  till  now ; and,  on  my  return, 
found  your  letter ; — I need  not,  I hope,  say  your  confidence  is  as 
safe  as  if  it  was  returned  to  your  own  mind,  and  your  advice  will 
always  be  thankfully  adopted.  The  event  we  looked  for  last 
night  is  postponed,  perhaps  for  a short  time,  so  that,  at  least,  we 
shall  have  time  to  consider  more  maturely.  The  Doctors  told 
Pitt  they  would  beg  not  to  be  obliged  to  make  their  declaration 
for  a fortnight  as  to  the  incurability  of  the  King’s  mind,  and 
not  to  be  surprised  if,  at  the  expiration  of  that  time,  they  should 
ask  more  time ; but  that  they  were  perfectly  ready  to  declare 
now,  for  the  furtherance  of  public  business,  that  he  is  now  insane ; 
that  it  appears  to  be  unconnected  with  any  other  disease  of  his 
body,  and  that  they  have  tried  all  their  skill  without  effect,  and 
that  to  the  disease  they  at  present  see  no  end  in  their  contemplation  : 
^the‘=ie  are  their  own  worrjs.  which  is  ?J1  that  can  be  implied  in 


60 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


an  absolute  declaration, — for  infallibility  cannot  be  ascribed  to 
them. 

“ Should  not  something  be  done  about  the  public  amusements  ? 
If  it  was  represented  to  Pitt,  it  might  embarrass  them  either 
way ; particularly  as  it  might  call  for  a public  account  every  day 
1 think  the  Chancellor  might  take  a good  opportunity  to  break 
with  his  colleagues,  if  they  propose  restriction^  the  Law  authority 
would  have  great  weight  with  us,  as  well  as  preventing  even  a 
design  of  moving  the  City; — at  all  events,  I think  Parliament 
would  not  confirm  their  opinion.  If  Pitt  stirs  much,  I think  any 
attempt  to  gras'p  at  power  might  be  fatal  to  his  interest,  at  least, 
well  turned  against  it. 

“ The  Prince  has  sent  for  me  directly,  so  I’ll  send  this  now, 
and  write  again.” 

In  the  words,  “ I think  the  Chancellor  might  take  a good  op- 
portunity to  break  with  his  colleagues,”  the  writer  alludes  to  a 
negotiation  which  Sheridan  had  entered  into  with  Lord  Thurlow, 
and  by  which  it  was  expected  that  the  co-operation  of  that  Learned 
Lord  might  be  secured,  in  consideration  of  his  being  allowed  to 
retain  the  office  of  Chancellor  under  the  Kegency. 

Lord  Thurlow  was  one  of  those  persons  who,  being  taken  by 
the  world  at  their  own  estimate  of  themselves,  contrive  to  pass 
upon  the  times  in  which  they  live  for  much  more  than  they  are 
worth.  His  bluntness  gained  him  credit  for  superior  honesty, 
and  the  same  peculiarity  of  exterior  gave  a weight,  not  their  own, 
to  his  talents ; the  roughness  of  the  diamond  being,  by  a very 
common  mistake,  made  the  measure  of  its  value.  The  nego- 
tiation for  his  alliance  on  this  occasion  was  managed,  if  not  first 
suggested,  by  Sheridan ; and  Mr.  Fox,  on  his  arrival  from  the 
Continent,  (having  been  sent  for  express  upon  the  first  announce- 
ment of  the  King’s  illness,)  found  considerable  progress  already 
made  in  the  preliminaries  of  this  heterogeneous  compact. 

The  following  letter  from  Admiral  Payne,  written  immediately 
after  the  return  of  Mr.  Fox,  contains  some  further  allusions  to 
the  negotiations  with  the  Chancellor ; — 


RIGHT  HOIST.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  61 


“ My  dear  Sheridan, 

“ I am  this  moment  returned  with  the  Prince  from  riding,  and 
heard,  with  great  pleasure,  of  Charles  Fox’s  arrival;  on  which 
account,  he  says,  I must  go  to  town  to-morrow,  when  I hope  to 
meet  you  at  his  house  some  time  before  dinner.  The  Prince  is 
to  see  the  Chancellor  to-morrow,  and  therefore  he  wishes  I should 
be  able  to  carry  to  town  the  result  of  this  interview,  or  I would 
set  off  immediately.  Due  deference  is  had  to  our  former  opinion 
upon  this  subject,  and  no  courtship  will  be  practised ; for  the 
chief  object  in  the  visit  is  to  show  him  the  King,  who  has  been 
worse  the  two  last  days  than  ever : this  morning  he  made  an  ef- 
fort to  jump  out  of  the  window,  and  is  now  very  turbulent  and 
incoherent.  Sir  G.  Baker  went  yesterday  to  give  Pitt  a little 
specimen  of  his  loquacity,  in  his  discovery  of  some  material 
state-secrets,  at  which  he  looked  astonished.  The  Physicians 
wish  him  to  be  removed  to  Kew ; on  which  we  shall  proceed  as 
we  settled.  Have  you  heard  any  thing  of  the  Foreign  Ministers 
respecting  what  the  P.  said  at  Bagshotl  The  Frenchman  has 
been  here  two  days  running,  but  has  not  seen  the  Prince.  He 
sat  with  me  half  an  hour  this  morning,  and  seemed  much  dis- 
posed to  confer  a little  closely.  He  was  all  admiration  and 
friendship  for  the  Prince,  and  said  he  was  sure  every  body  would 
unite  to  give  vigor  to  his  government. 

“ To-morrow  you  shall  hear  particulars ; in  the  mean  time  I 
can  only  add  I have  none  of  the  apprehensions  contained  in  Lord 
L.’s  letter.  I have  had  correspondence  enough  myself  on  this 
subject  to  convince  me  of  the  impossibility  of  the  Ministry  ma- 
naging the  present  Parliament  by  any  contrivance  hostile  to  the 
Prince.  Dinner  is  on  table ; so  adieu ; and  be  assured  of  the 
truth  and  sincerity  of 

“ Yours  affectionately, 

“ Windsor y Monday y 5 dclocky  P,  M.  “ J.  W.  P. 

“ I have  just  got  Rodney’s  proxy  sent.” 

The  situation  in  which  Mr.  Fox  was  placed  by  the  treaty  thus 
commenced,  before  his  arrival,  with  the  Chancellor,  was  not  a 


62 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


little  embarrassing.  In  addition  to  the  distaste  which  he  must 
have  felt  for  such  a union,  he  had  been  already,  it  appears,  in 
some  degree  pledged  to  bestow  the  Great  Seal,  in  the  event  of  a 
change,  upon  Lord  Loughborough.  Finding,  however,  the  Prince 
and  his  party  so  far  committed  in  the  negotiation  with  Lord 
Thurlow,  he  thought  it  expedient,  however  contrary  to  his  own 
wishes,  to  accede  to  their  views ; and  a letter,  addressed  by  him 
to  Mr.  Sheridan  on  the  occasion,  shows  the  struggle  with  his  own 
feelings  and  opinions,  which  this  concession  cost  him  : — 

“ Dear  Sheridan, 

“ I have  swallowed  the  pill, — a most  bitter  one  it  was, — and 
have  written  to  Lord  Loughborough,  whose  answer  of  course 
must  be  consent.  What  is  to  be  done  next  1 Should  the  Prince 
himself,  you,  or  I,  or  Warren,  be  the  person -^to  speak  to  the 
Chancellor  '?  The  objection  to  the  last  is,  that  he  must  probably 
wait  for  an  opportunity,  and  that  no  time  is  to  be  lost.  Pray 
tell  me  what  is  to  be  done : I am  convinced,  after  all,  the  nego- 
tiation will  not  succeed,  and  am  not  sure  that  I am  sorry  for  it. 
I do  not  remember  ever  feeling  so  uneasy  about  any  political 
thing  I ever  did  in  my  life.  Call  if  you  can. 

“ Yours  ever, 

“ Sat  past  12.  C.  J.  F.” 

Lord  Loughborough,  in  the  mean  time,  with  a vigilance  quick- 
ened by  his  own  personal  views,  kept  watch  on  the  mysterious 
movements  of  the  Chancellor ; and,  as  appears  by  the  following 
letter,  not  only  saw  reason  to  suspect  duplicity  himself,  but  took 
care  that  Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Sheridan  should  share  in  his  dis- 
trust : — 

“My  dear  S. 

“ I was  afraid  to  pursue  the  conversation  on  the  circumstance 
of  the  Inspection  committed  to  the  Chancellor,  lest  the  reflec- 
tions that  arise  upon  it  might  have  made  too  strong  an  impres- 
sion on  some  of  our  neighbors  last  night.  It  does  indeed  appear 
to  me  full  of  mischief,  and  of  that  sort  most  likely  to  affect  the 


HIGHT  RiOHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  6S 

apprehensions  of  our  best  friends,  (of  Lord  John  for  instance,) 
and  to  increase  their  reluctance  to  take  any  active  part. 

“ The  Chancellor’s  object  evidently  is  to  make  his  way  by 
himself,  and  he  has  managed  hitherto  as  one  very  well  practised 
in  that  gaiiie.  His  conversations,  both  with  you  and  Mr.  Fox, 
were  encouraging,  but  at  the  same  time  checked  all  explanations 
on  his  part  under  a pretence  of  delicacy  towards  his  colleagues. 
When  he  let  them  go  to  Sal  thill  and  contrived  to  dine  at  Wind- 
sor, he  certainly  took  a step  that  most  men  would  have  felt  not 
very  delicate  in  its  appearance,  and  unless  there  was  some  pri- 
vate understanding  between  him  and  them,  not  altogether  fair  ; 
especially  if  you  add  to  it  the  sort  of  conversation  he  held  with 
regard  to  them.  I cannot  help  thinking  that  the  difficulties  of 
managing  the  patient  have  been  excited  or  improved  to  lead  to 
the  proposal  of  his  inspection,  (without  the  Prince  being  con- 
scious of  it,)  for  by  that  situation  he  gains  an  easy  and  frequent 
access  to  him,  and  an  opportunity  of  possessing  the  confidence 
of  the  Queen.  I believe  this  the  more  from  the  account  of  the 
tenderness  he  showed  at  his  first  interview,  for  I am  sure,  it  is 
not  in  his  character  to  feel  any.  With  a little  instruction  from 
Lord  Hawksbury,  the  sort  of  management  that  \vas  carried  on 
by  means  of  the  Princess-Dowager,  in  the  early  part  of  the 
reign,  may  easily  be  practised.  In  short,  I think  he  will  try  to 
find  the  key  of  the  back  stairs,  and,  with  that  in  his  pocket,  take 
any  situation  that  preserves  his  access,  and  enables  him  to  hold 
a line  between  different  parties.  In  the  present  moment,  how- 
ever, he  has  taken  a position  that  puts  the  command  of  the 
House  of  Lords  in  his  hands,  for  ^ * * 

* * * ^ 

“I  wish  Mr.  Fox  and  you  would  give  these  considerations 
what  weight  you  think  they  deserve,  and  try  if  any  means  can 
be  taken  to  remedy  this  mischief,  if  it  appears  in  the  same  light 
to  you 

“ Ever  yours,  <kc.’^ 


•*=  The  remainder  of  this  sentence  is  effaced  by  damp 


64 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


What  were  the  motives  that  induced  Lord  Thurlow  to  break 
off  so  suddenly  his  negotiation  with  the  Prince’s  party,  and  de- 
clare himself  with  such  vehemence  on  the  side  of  the  King  and 
Mr.  Pitt,  it  does  not  appear  very  easy  to  ascertain.  Possibly, 
from  his  opportunities  of  visiting  the  Royal  Patient,  he  had  been 
led  to  conceive  sufficient  hopes  of  recovery,  to  incline  the  bal- 
ance of  his  speculation  that  way ; or,  perhaps,  in  the  influence 
of  Lord  Loughborough‘S  over  Mr.  Fox,  he  saw  a rLk  of  being 
supplanted  in  his  views  on  the  Great  Seal.  Whatever  may  have 
been  the  motive,  it  is  certain  that  his  negotiation  with  the  Whigs 
had  been  amicably  carried  on,  till  within  a few  hours  of  his  de- 
livery of  that  speech,  from  whose  enthusiasm  the  public  could 
little  suspect  how  fresh  from  the  incomplete  bargain  of  defection 
was  the  speaker,  and  in  the  course  of  which  he  gave  vent  to  the 
well-known  declaration,  that  ‘‘  his  debt  of  gratitude  to  His  Ma- 
jesty was  ample,  for  the  many  favors  he  had  graciously  con- 
fcxTed  upon  him,  which,  when  he  forgot,  might  God  forget 
him!”f 

As  it  is  not  my  desire  to  imitate  those  biographers,  who  swell 
their  pages  with  details  that  belong  more  properly  to  History,  I 
shall  forbear  to  enter  into  a minute  or  consecutive  narrative  of 
the  proceedings  of  Parliament  on  the  important  subject  of  the 
Regency.  A writer  of  political  biography  has  a right,  no  doubt, 
like  an  engineer  who  constructs  a navigable  canal,  to  lay  every 
brook  and  spring  in  the  neighborhood  under  contribution  for  the 
supply  and  enrichment  of  his  work.  But,  to  turn  into  it  the 
whole  contents  of  the  Annual  Register  and  Parliamentary  De- 
bates is  a sort  of  literary  engineering,  not  quite  so  laudable, 
which,  after  the  example  set  by  a Right  Reverend  biographer  of 
Mr.  Pitt,  will  hardly  again  be  attempted  by  any  one,  whose  am- 
bition, at  least,  it  is  to  be  read  as  well  as  bought. 

Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Pitt,  it  is  well  known,  differed  essentially,  not 
only  with  respect  to  the  form  of  the  proceedings,  which  the  lat- 

* TiOrd  Loughborough  is  supposed  to  have  been  the  person  who  instilled  into  the  mind 
oi  Mr.  Fox  the  idea  of  advancing  that  claim  of  right  for  the  Prince,  which  gave  Mr.  Pitt, 
m principle  as  well  as  in  fact,  such  an  advantage  over  him. 

f “Forget  you  1”  said  Wilkes,  “ he’ll  sec  you  d — d first.” 


felGHT  HON.  BICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  65 


ter  recommended  in  that  suspension  of  the  Royal  authority,  but 
a^so  with  respect  to  the  abstract  constitutional  principles,  upon 
which  those  proceedings  of  the  Minister  w^ere  professedly  founded. 
As  soon  as  the  nature  of  the  malady,  with  which  the  King  was 
afflicted,  had  been  ascertained  by  a regular  examination  of  the 
physicians  in  attendance  on  His  Majesty,  Mr.  Pitt  moved  (on 
the  10th  of  December),  that  a ‘‘  Committee  be  appointed  to  ex- 
amine and  report  precedents  of  such  proceedings  as  may  have 
been  had,  in  case  of  the  personal  exercise  of  the  Royal  authorit}^ 
being  prevented  or  interrupted,  by  infancy,  sickness,  infirmity,  oi 
otherwise,  with  a view  to  provide  for  the  same.”^ 

It  was  immediately  upon  this  motion  that  Mr.  Fox  advanced 
that  inconsiderate  claim  of  Right  for  the  Prince  of  Wales,  of 
which  his  rival  availed  himself  so  dexterously  and  triumphantly. 
Having  asserted  that  there  existed  no  precedent  whatever  that 
could  bear  upon  the  present  case,  Mr.  Fox  proceeded  to  say, 
that  “ the  circumstance  to  be  provided  for  did  not  depend  upon 
their  deliberations  as  a House  of  Parliament, — it  rested  else- 
where. There  was  then  a person  in  the  kingdom,  different  from 
any  other  person  that  any  existing  precedents  could  refer  to, — 
an  Heir  Apparent,  of  full  age  and  capacity  to  exercise  the  royal 
power.  It  behoved  them,  therefore,  to  waste  not  a moment  un- 
necessarily, but  to  proceed  with  all  becoming  speed  and  diligence 
to  restore  the  Sovereign  power  and  the  exercise  of  the  Royal 
Authority.  From  what  he  had  read  of  history,  from  the  ideas 
he  had  formed  of  the  law,  and,  what  was  still  more  precious,  of 
the  spirit  of  the  Constitution,  from  every  reasoning  and  analogy 

* Mr.  Burke  and  Mr.  Sheridan  were  both  members  of  this  committee,  and  the  follow 
ing  letter  from  the  former  to  Sheridan  refers  to  it  : — 

“ ilY  DEAR  Sir, 

“ My  idea  was,  that  on  Fox’s  declaring  that  the  precedents,  neither  individually  nor 
collectively,  do  at  all  apply,  our  attendance  ought  to  have  been  merely  formal.  But  as 
you  think  otherwise,  I shall  certainly  be  at  the  committee  soon  after  one.  I rather  think, 
that  they  will  n It  attempt  to  garble:  because,  supposing  the  precedents  to  apply,  the 
major  part  are  certainly  in  their  favor.  It  is  not  likely  that  they  mean  to  suppress, — bul 
it  is  good  to  be  on  our  guard . 

“ Ever  most  truly  yours,  &c. 

“ Edmund  Burkb.’^ 


“ Ge?  ard  Street,  Thursday  Morning 


66 


Memoirs  of  I'Mf  life  of  the 


drawn  from  those  sources,  he  declared  that  he  had  not  in  his 
mind  a doubt,  and  he  should  think  himself  culpable  if  he  did  not 
take  the  first  opportunity  of  declaring  it,  that,  in  the  present  con- 
dition of  His  Majesty,  His  Royal  Highness  the  Prince  of  Wales 
had  as  clear,  as  express  a Right  to  exercise  the  power  of  Sove- 
reignty, during  the  continuance  of  the  illness  and  incapacity, 
with  which  it  had  pleased  God  to  afflict  His  Majesty,  as  in  the 
case  of  His  Majesty’s  having  undergone  a natural  demise.” 

It  is  said  that,  during  the  delivery  of  this  adventurous  opinion, 
the  countenance  of  Mr.  Pitt  was  seen  to  brighten  with  exultation 
at  the  mistake  into  which  he  perceived  his  adversary  was  hurry- 
ing ; and  scarcely  had  the  sentence,  just  quoted,  been  concluded, 
when,  slapping  his  thigh  triumphantly,  he  turned  to  the  person 
who  sat  next  to  him,  and  said,  “ I’ll  un-  Whig  the  gentleman  for 
the  rest  of  his  life  !” 

Even  without  this  anecdote,  which  may  be  depended  upon  as 
authentic,  we  have  sufficient  evidence  that  such  were  his  feelings 
in  the  burst  of  animation  and  confidence  with  which  he  instantly 
replied  to  Mr.  Fox, — taking  his  ground,  with  an  almost  equal 
temerity,  upon  the  directly  opposite  doctrine,  and  assertmg,  not 
only  that  “ in  the  case  of  the  interruption  of  the  personal  exer- 
cise of  the  Royal  Authority,  it  devolved  upon  the  other  branches 
of  the  Legislature  to  provide  a substitute  for  that  authority,” 
but  that  “ the  Prince  of  W ales  had  no  more  right  to  exercise  the 
powers  of  government  than  any  other  person  in  the  realm.” 

The  truth  is,  the  assertion  of  a Right  was  equally  erroneous, 
on  both  sides  of  the  question.  The  Constitution  having  pro- 
vided no  legal  remedy  for  such  an  exigence  as  had  now  occurred, 
the  two  Houses  of  Parliament  had  as  little  right  (in  the  strict 
sense  of  the  word)  to  supply  the  deficiency  of  the  Royal  power, 
as  the  Piince  had  to  be  the  person  elected  or  adjudged  for  that 
purpose.  Constitutional  analogy  and  expediency  were  the  only 
authorities  by  which  the  measures  necessary  in  such  a conjunc- 
ture could  be  either  guided  or  sanctioned  ; and  if  the  disputants 
on  each  side  had  softened  down  their  tone  to  this  true  and  prac- 
tical view  of  the  case,  there  would  have  been  no  material  differ- 


lUGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRlNSLEY  SHERIDAN. 


67 


euce,  ill  the  first  stage  of  the  proceedings  between  them, — Mr. 
Pitt  being  ready  to  allow  that  the  Heir  Apparent  was  the  ob- 
vious person  to  whom  expediency  pointed  as  the  depository  of 
the  Royal  power,  and  Mr.  Fox  having  granted,  in  a subsequent 
explanation  of  his  doctrine,  that,  strong  as  was  the  right  upon 
which  the  claim  of  the  Prince  was  founded.  His  Royal  Highness 
could  not  assume  that  right  till  it  had  been  formally  adjudicated 
to  him  by  Parliament.  The  principle,  however,  having  been 
imprudently  broached,  Mr.  Pitt  was  too  expert  a tactician  not 
to  avail  himself  of  the  advantage  it  gave  him.  He  was  thus, 
indeed,  furnished  with  an  opportunity,  not  only  of  gaining  time 
by  an  artful  protraction  of  the  discussions,  but  of  occupying  vic- 
toriously the  ground  of  Whiggism,  which  Mr.  Fox  had,  in  his 
impatience  or  precipitancy,  deserted,  and  of  thus  adding  to  the 
character,  which  he  had  recently  acquired,  of  a defender  of  the 
prerogatives  of  the  Crown,  the  more  brilliant  reputation  of  an 
assertor  of  the  rights  of  the  people. 

In  the  popular  view  which  Mr.  Pitt  found  it  convenient  to 
take  of  this  question,  he  was  led,  or  fell  voluntarily  into  some 
glaring  errors,  which  pervaded  the  whole  of  his  reasonings  on  the 
subject.  In  his  anxiety  to  prove  the  omnipotence  of  Parliament, 
he  evidently  confounded  the  Estates  of  the  realm  with  the  Legis- 
lature,* and  attributed  to  two  branches  of  the  latter  such  powers  as 
are  only  legally  possessed  by  the  whole  three  in  Parliament  as- 
sembled. For  the  purpose,  too,  of  flattering  the  people  with  the 
notion  that  to  them  had  now  reverted  the  right  of  choosing  their 
temporary  Sovereign,  he  applied  a principle,  which  ought  to  be 
reserved  for  extreme  cases,  to  an  exigence  by  no  means  requir 
ing  this  ultimate  appeal, — the  defect  in  the  government  being 
such  as  the  still  existing  Estates  of  the  realm,  appointed  to  speak 
the  will  of  the  people,  but  superseding  any  direct  exercise  of 
their  power,  were  fully  competent,  as  in  the  instance  of  the  Re- 
volution, to  remedy. f 

* Mr.  Grattan  and  the  Irish  Parliament  carried  this  error  still  farther,  and  founded  all 
their  proceedings  on  the  necessity  of  “ providing  for  the  deficiency  of  the  Third  Estate.^' 

* The  most  luminous  view  that  has  been  taken  of  this  Question  is  to  be  found  in  au  Ar 


68 


MEMOIES  0^'  THE  LIFE  OF  ThE 


Indeed,  the  solemn  use  of  such  language  as  Mr.  Pitt,  in  his 
over-acted  Whiggism,  employed  upon  this  occasion, — namely, 
that  the  “ right  ” of  appointing  a substitute  for  the  Royal  power 
was  “ to  be  found  in  the  voice  and  the  sense  of  the  people,” — is 
applicable  only  to  those  conjunctures,  brought  on  by  misrule  and 
oppression,  when  all  forms  are  lost  in  the  necessity  of  relief, 
and  when  the  right  of  the  people  to  change  and  choose  their 
rulers  is  among  the  most  sacred  and  inalienable  that  either  nature 
or  social  polity  has  ordained.  But,  to  apply  the  language  of 
that  last  resource  to  the  present  emergency  was  to  brandish  the 
sword  of  Goliath"^  on  an  occasion  that  by  no  means  called  for  it. 

The  question  of  the  Prince’s  claim, — in  spite  of  the  efforts  of 
the  Prince  himself  and  of  his  Royal  relatives  to  avert  the 
agitation  of  it,~was,  for  evident  reasons,  forced  into  discussion 
by  the  Minister,  and  decided  by  a majority,  not  only  of  the  two 
Houses  but  of  the  nation,  in  his  favor.  During  one  of  the  long 
debates  to  which  the  question  gave  rise,  Mr.  Sheridan  allowed 
himself  to  be  betrayed  into  some  expressions,  which,  considering 
the  delicate  predicament  in  which  the  Prince  was  placed  by  the 
controversy,  were  not  marked  with  his  usual  tact  and  sagacity. 
In  alluding  to  the  claim  of  Right  advanced  for  His  Royal  High- 
ness, and  deprecating  any  further  agitation  of  it,  he  “ reminded 
the  Right  Honorable  Gentleman  (Mr.  Pitt)  of  the  danger  of 
provoking  that  claim  to  be  asserted  [a  loud  cry  of  hear  ! hear  !], 
which,  he  observed,  had  not  yet  bean  preferred.  [Another  cry 
of  hear ! hear !]”  This  was  the  very  language  that  Mr.  Pitt 
most  wished  his  adversaries  to  assume,  and,  accordingly,  he 
turned  it  to  account  with  all  his  usual  mastery  and  haughtiness. 
“ He  had  now,”  he  said,  “ an  additional  reason  for  asserting  the 
authority  of  the  House,  and  defining  the  boundaries  of  Right, 
when  the  deliberative  faculties  of  Parliament  were  invaded,  and 
an  indecent  menace  thrown  out  to  awe  and  influence  their  pro- 

. tide  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  on  the  Regency  of  1811, — written  by  one  of  the  most 
learned  and  able  men  of  our  day,  Mr.  John  Allen. 

* A simile  applied  by  Lord  Somers  to  the  pow'^er  of  Impeachment,  which,  he  said, 
“ should  be  like  Goliatli’s  sword,  kept  in  the  temple,  and  not  used  but  upon  great  occa 
Bions.” 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  69 

ceedings.  In  the  discussion  of  the  question,  the  House,  he  trusted, 
would  do  their  duty,  in  spite  of  any  threat  that  might  be  thrown 
out.  Men,  who  felt  their  native  freedom,  would  not  submit  to  a 
threat,  however  high  the  authority  from  which  it  might  come.”^ 
The  restrictions  of  the  Prerogative  with  which  Mr.  Pitt 
thought  proper  to  encumber  the  transfer  of  the  Koyal  power  to 
the  Prince,  formed  the  second  great  point  of  discussion  betw’eeii 
the  parties,  and  brought  equally  adverse  principles  into  play. 
Mr.  Fox,  still  maintaining  his  position  on  the  side  of  Eoyalty, 
defended  it  with  much  more  tenable  weapons  than  the  question 
of  Right  had  enabled  him  to  wield.  So  founded,  indeed,  in  the 
purest  principles  of  Whiggism  did  he  consider  his  opposition, 
on  this  memorable  occasion,  to  any  limitation  of  the  Prerogative 
in  the  hands  of  a Regent,  that  he  has,  in  his  History  of  J ames 
II.,  put  those  principles  deliberately  upon  record,  as  a funda- 
mental article  in  the  creed  of  his  party.  The  passage  to  which 
I allude  occurs  in  his  remarks  upon  the  Exclusion  Bill ; and  as  it 
contains,  in  a condensed  form,  the  spirit  of  what  he  urged  on  the 
same  point  in  1789, 1 cannot  do  better  than  lay  his  own  words 
before  the  reader.  After  expressing  his  opinion  that,  at  the  pe- 
riod of  which  he  writes,  the  measure  of  exclusion  from  the 
monarchy  altogether  would  have  been  preferable  to  any  limit- 
ation of  its  powers,  he  proceeds  to  say  : — “ The  Whigs,  who 
consider  the  powers  of  the  Crown  as  a trust  for  the  people,  a 
doctrine  which  the  Tories  themselves,  when  pushed  in  argument, 
will  sometimes  admit,  naturally  think  it  their  duty  rather  to 
change  the  manager  of  the  trust  than  impair  the  subject  of  it ; 
while  others,  wFo  consider  them  as  the  right  or  property  of  the 
King,  will  as  naturally  act  as  they  would  do  in  the  case  of  any 
other  property,  and  consent  to  the  loss  or  annihilation  of  any 
part  of  it,  for  the  purpose  of  preserving  the  remainder  to  him, 
whom  they  style  the  rightful  owner.”  Further  on  he  adds : — 
“ The  Royal  Prerogative  ought,  according  to  the  Whigs,  to  be 
reduced  to  such  powers  as  are  in  their  exercise  beneficial  to  the 
people ; and  of  the  benefit  of  these  they  will  not  rashly  suffer 

♦ Impartial  Report  of  all  the  Proceedings  on  the  Subject  of  the  Regency, 


70 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


the  people  to  be  deprived,  whether  the  executive  power  be  in 
the  hands  of  an  hereditary  or  of  an  elective  King,  of  a Kegent, 
or  of  any  other  denomination  of  magistrate ; while,  on  the  other 
hand,  they  who  consider  Prerogative  with  reference  only  to 
Royalty  will,  with  equal  readiness,  consent  either  to  the  exten- 
sion or  the  suspension  of  its  exercise,  as  the  occasional  interests 
of  the  Prince  may  seem  to  require.” 

Taking  this  as  a correct  exposition  of  the  doctrines  of  the  two 
parties,  of  which  Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Pitt  may  be  considered  to 
have  been  the  representatives  in  the  Regency  question  of  1789, 
it  will  strike  some  minds  that,  however  the  Whig  may  flatter 
himself  that  the  principle  by  which  he  is  guided  in  such  exigencies 
is  favorable  to  liberty,  and  however  the  Tory  may,  with  equal  sin- 
cerity, believe  his  suspension  of  the  Prerogative  on  these  occasions 
to  be  advantageous  to  the  Crown,  yet  that  in  both  of  the  princi- 
ples, so  defined,  there  is  an  evident  tendency  to  produce  effects, 
wholly  different  from  those  which  the  parties  professing  them  con- 
template. 

On  the  one  side,  to  sanction  from  authority  the  notion,  that 
there  are  some  powers  of  the  Crown  which  may  be  safely  dis- 
pensed with, — to  accustom  the  people  to  an  abridged  exercise  of 
the  Prerogative,  with  the  risk  of  suggesting  to  their  minds  that 
its  full  efficacy  needs  not  be  resumed, — to  set  an  example,  in 
short,  of  reducing  the  Kingly  Power,  which,  by  its  success,  may 
invite  and  authorize  still  further  encroachments, — all  these  are 
dangers  to  which  the  alleged  doctrine  of  Toryism,  whenever 
brought  into  practice,  exposes  its  idol ; and  more  particularly  in 
enlightened  and  speculative  times,  when  the  minds  of  men  are  in 
quest  of  the  right  and  the  useful,  and  when  a superfluity  of  power 
is  one  of  those  abuses,  which  they  are  least  likely  to  overlook  or 
tolerate.  In  such  seasons,  the  experiment  of  the  Tory  might  lead 
to  all  that  he  most  deprecates,  and  the  branches  of  the  Preroga- 
tive, once  cut  away,  might,  like  the  lopped  boughs  of  the  fir-tree, 
never  grow  again. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Whig,  who  asserts  that  the  Royal  Pre- 
rogative ought  to  be  reduced  to  such  powers  as  are  beneficial  to 


BIGHT  HON.  mCHAKD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  71 

the  people,  and  yet  stipulates,  as  an  invariable  principle,  for  the 
transfer  of  that  Prerogative  full  and  unimpaired,  whenever  it 
passes  into  other  hands,  appears,  even  more  perhaps  than  the  Tory, 
to  throw  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of  his  own  object.  Circumstances, 
it  is  not  denied,  may  arise  when  the  increase  of  the  powers  of  the 
Crown,  in  other  ways,  may  render  it  advisable  to  control  some 
of  its  established  prerogatives.  But,  w^here  are  we  to  find  a fit 
moment  for  such  a reform, — or  what  opening  will  be  left  for  it 
by  this  fastidious  Whig  principle,  which,  in  1680,  could  see  no 
middle  step  between  a change  of  the  Succession  and  an  undimin- 
ished maintenance  of  the  Prerogative,  and  which,  in  1789,  almost 
upon  the  heels  of  a Declaration  that  “ the  power  of  the  Crown 
had  increased  and  ought  to  be  diminished,”  protested  against  even 
an  experimental  reduction  of  it ! 

According  to  Mr.  Fox,  it  is  a distinctive  characteristic  of  the 
Tory,  to  attach  more  importance  to  the  person  of  the  King  than 
to  his  office.  But,  assuredly,  the  Tory  is  not  singular  in  this  want 
of  political  abstraction ; and,  in  England,  (from  a defect,  Hume 
thinks,  inherent  in  all  limited  monarchies,)  the  personal  qualities 
and  opinions  of  the  Sovereign  have  considerable  influence  upon 
the  whole  course  of  public  affairs, — being  felt  alike  in  that  court- 
ly sphere  around  them  where  their  attraction  acts,  and  in  that 
outer  circle  of  opposition  where  their  repulsion  comes  into  play. 
To  this  influence,  then,  upon  the  government  and  the  community,  of 
which  no  abstraction  can  deprive  the  person  of  the  monarch,  the 
Whig  principle  in  question  (which  seems  to  consider  entireness  of 
Prerogative  as  necessary  to  a King,  as  the  entireness  ofhis  limbs  was 
held  to  be  among  the  Athenians,)  superadds  the  vast  power,  both 
actual  and  virtual,  which  would  flow  from  the  inviolability  of  the 
Royal  office,  and  forecloses,  so  far,  the  chance  which  the  more 
pliant  Tory  doctrine  would  leave  open,  of  counteracting  the  effects 
of  the  King’s  indirect  personal  influence,  by  curtailing  or  weaken- 
ing the  grasp  of  some  of  his  direct  regal  powers.  Ovid  repre- 
sents the  Deity  of  Light  (and  on  an  occasion,  too,  which  may  be 
called  a Regency  question)  as  crov/ned  with  movable  rays,  which 
might  be  put  off  when  too  strong  or  dazzling.  But,  according  to 


n 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


this  principle,  the  crown  of  Prerogative  must  keep  its  rays  fixed 
and  immovable,  and  (as  the  poet  expresses  it)  “ circa  caput  omnb 
micantesP 

Upon  the  whole,  however  high  the  authorities,  by  which  this 
Whig  doctrine  was  enforced  in  1789,  its  manifest  tendency,  in 
most  cases,  to  secure  a perpetuity  of  superfluous  powers  to  the 
Crown,  appears  to  render  it  unfit,  at  least  as  an  invariable  prin- 
ciple, for  any  party  professing  to  have  the  liberty  of  the  people 
for  their  object.  The  Prince,  in  his  admirable  Letter  upon  the 
subject  of  the  Regency  to  Mr.  Pitt,  was  made  to  express  the  un- 
willingness which  he  felt  “ that  in  his  person  an  experiment  should 
be  made  to  ascertain  with  how  small  a portion  of  kingly  power 
the  executive  government  of  the  country  might  be  carried  on 
— but  imagination  has  not  far  to  go  in  supposing  a case,  where 
the  enormous  patronage  vested  in  the  Crown,  and  the  consequent 
increase  of  a Royal  bias  through  the  community,  might  give  such 
an  undue  and  unsafe  preponderance  to  that  branch  of  the  Legis- 
lature, as  would  render  any  safe  opportunity,  however  acquired,  of 
ascertaining  with  how  much  less  power  the  executive  government 
could  be  carried  on,  most  acceptable,  in  spite  of  any  dogmas  to  the 
contrary,  to  all  true  lovers  as  well  of  the  monarchy  as  of  the  people. 

Having  given  thus  much  consideration  to  the  opinions  and  prin- 
ciples, professed  on  both  sides  of  this  constitutional  question,  it  is 
mortifying,  after  all,  to  be  obliged  to  acknowledge,  that,  in  the 
relative  situation  of  the  two  parties  at  the  moment,  may  be  found 
perhaps  the  real,  and  but  too  natural,  source  of  the  decidedly  op- 
posite views  which  they  took  of  the  subject.  Mr.  Pitt,  about  to 
surrender  the  possession  of  power  to  his  rival,  had  a very  intel- 
ligible interest  in  reducing  the  value  of  the  transfer,  and  (as  a 
retreating  army  spike  the  guns  they  leave  behind)  rendering  the 
engines  of  Prerogative  as  useless  as  possible  to  his  successor. 
Mr.  Fox,  too,  had  as  natural  a motive  to  oppose  such  a design; 
and,  aware  that  the  chief  aim  of  these  restrictive  measures  was  to 
entail  upon  the  Whig  ministry  of  the  Regent  a w'eak  Government 
and  strong  Opposition,  w^ould,  of  course,  eagerly  welcome  the 
aid  of  any  abstract  principle,  that  might  sanction  him  in  resisting 


EIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  73 


sucn  a mutilation  of  the  Royal  power  ; — well  knowing  that  (as  in 
the  case  of  the  Peerage  Bill  in  the  reign  of  George  I.)  the  pro- 
ceedings altogether  were  actuated  more  by  ill-will  to  the  succes* 
sor  in  the  trust,  than  by  any  sincere  zeal  for  the  purity  of  its 
exercise. 

Had  the  situations  of  the  two  leaders  been  reversed,  it  is  more 
than  probable  that  their  modes  of  thinking  and  acting  w^ould  have 
been  so  likewise.  Mr.  Pitt,  with  the  prospect  of  power  before 
his  eyes,  would  have  been  still  more  strenuous,  perhaps,  for  the 
unbroken  transmission  of  the  Prerogative — his  natural  leaning  on 
the  side  of  power  being  increased  by  his  own  approaching  share 
in  it.  Mr.  Fox,  too,  if  stopped,  like  his  rival,  in  a career  of  suc- 
cessful administration,  and  obliged  to  surrender  up  the  reins  of 
the  state  to  Tory  guidance,  might  have  found  in  his  popular  prin- 
ciples a still  more  plausible  pretext,  for  the  abridgment  of  power 
in  such  unconstitutional  hands.  He  might  even  too,  perhaps,  (as 
his  India  Bill  w^arrants  us  in  supposing)  have  been  tempted  into 
the  same  sort  of  alienation  of  the  Royal  patronage,  as  that  which 
Mr.  Pitt  now  practised  in  the  establishment  of  the  Queen,  and 
have  taken  care  to  leave  behind  him  a stronghold  of  Whiggism, 
to  facilitate  the  resumption  of  his  position,  whenever  an  opportu- 
nity might  present  itself.  Such  is  human  nature,  even  in  its 
noblest  specimens,  and  so  are  the  strongest  spirits  shaped  by  the 
mould  in  which  chance  and  circumstances  have  placed  them. 

Mr.  Sheridan  spoke  frequently  in  the  Debates  on  this  question, 
but  his  most  important  agency  lay  in  the  less  public  business 
connected  with  it.  He  was  the  confidential  adviser  of  the  Prince 
throughout,  directed  every  step  he  took,  and  was  the  author  of 
most  of  his  correspondence  on  the  subject.  There  is  little  doubt, 
I think,  that  the  celebrated  and  masterly  Letter  to  Mr.  Pitt, 
which  by  some  persons  has  been  attributed  to  Burke,  and  by 
others  to  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot  (afterwards  Lord  Minto),  was  prin- 
cipally the  production  of  Mr.  Sheridan.  For  the  supposition 
that  it  was  written  by  Burke  there  are,  besides  the  merits  of  the 
production,  but  very  scanty  grounds.  So  little  was  he  at  that 
period  in  those  habits  of  confidence  with  the  Prince,  which  would 

VOL.  u.  4 


74  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  I HE 

entitle  him  to  be  selected  for  such  a task  in  preference  to  Sheridan, 
that  but  eight  or  ten  days  before  the  date  of  this  letter  (Jan.  2.) 
he  had  declared  in  the  House  of  Commons,  that  “ he  knew  as 
little  of  the  inside  of  Carlton  House  as  he  did  of  Buckingham 
House.”  Indeed,  the  violent  state  of  this  extraordinary  man'^s 
temper,  during  the  whole  of  the  discussions  and  proceedings  on 
the  Regency,  would  have  rendered  him,  even  had  his  intimacy 
with  the  Prince  been  closer,  an  unfit  person  for  the  composition 
of  a document,  requiring  so  much  caution,  temper,  and  delicacy. 

The  conjecture  that  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot  was  the  author  of  it  is 
somewhat  more  plausible, — that  gentleman  being  at  this  period 
high  in  the  favor  of  the  Prince,  and  possessing  talents  sufficient 
to  authorize  the  suspicion  (which  was  in  itself  a reputation)  that 
he  had  been  the  writer  of  a composition  so  admirable.  But  it 
seems  hardly  necessary  to  go  farther,  in  quest  of  its  author,  than 
Mr.  Sheridan,  who,  besides  being  known  to  have  acted  the  part 
of  the  Prince’s  adviser  through  the  whole  transaction,  is  proved 
by  the  rough  copies  found  among  his  papers,  to  have  written 
several  other  important  documents  connected  with  the  Regency. 

I may  also  add  that  an  eminent  statesman  of  the  present  day, 
who  was  at  that  period,  though  very  young,  a distinguished  friend 
of  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  who  has  shown  by  the  ability  of  his  own 
State  Papers  that  he  has  not  forgot  the  lessons  of  that  school 
from  which  this  able  production  emanated,  remembers  having 
heard  some  passages  of  the  Letter  discussed  in  Bruton-street,  as 
if  it  were  then  in  the  progress  of  composition,  and  has  always, 
I believe,  been  under  the  impression  that  it  was  principally  the 
work  of  Mr.  Sheridan.* 

I had  written  thus  far  on  the  subject  of  this  Letter — and  shall 
leave  what  I have  written  as  a memorial  of  the  fallacy  of  such 
conjectures — when,  having  still  some  doubts  of  my  correctness 
in  attributing  the  honor  of  the  composition  to  Sheridan,  I resolved 
to  ask  the  opinion  of  my  friend.  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  a person 


* To  lliis  authority  may  be  added  also  that  of  the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  who  says, — 
“ Mr.  Sheridan  was  supposed  to  have  been  materially  concerned  in  drawing  up  this  ad- 
mirable CQmposition.’’ 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN. 


75 


above  all  others  qualified,  by  relationship  of  talent,  to  recognize 
and  hold  parley  with  the  mighty  spirit  of  Burke,  in  whatever 
shape  the  “ Royal  Dane  ” may  appear.  The  strong  impression 
on  his  mind — amounting  almost  to  certainty — was  that  no  other 
hand  but  that  of  Burke  could  have  written  the  greater  part  of 
the  letter  and  by  a more  diligent  inquiry,  in  which  his  kind- 
ness assisted  me,  it  has  been  ascertained  that  his  opinion  was,  as 
it  could  not  fail  to  be,  correct.  The  following  extract  from  a 
letter  written  by  Lord  Minto  at  the  time,  referring  obviously  to 
the  surmise  that  he  was,  himself,  the  author  of  the  paper,  con- 
firms beyond  a doubt  the  fact,  that  it  was  written  almost  solely 
by  Burke : — 

January  31s^,  1789. 

There  was  not  a word  of  the  Princess  letter  to  Pitt  mine.  It  was  origi- 
nally Barkers,  altered  a little,  but  not  improved,  by  Sheridan  and  other 
critics.  The  answer  made  by  the  Prince  yesterday  to  the  Address  oT  the 
two  Houses  was  entirely  mine,  and  done  in  a great  hurry  half  an  hour  be- 
fore it  was  to  be  delivered.” 

# 

While  it  is  with  regret  I give  up  the  claim  of  Mr.  Sheridan  to 
this  fine  specimen  of  English  composition,  it  but  adds  to  my  in- 
tense admiration  of  Burke — not  on  account  of  the  beauty  of  the 
writing,  for  his  fame  required  no  such  accession — but  from  that 
triumph  of  mind  over  temper  which  it  exhibits — that  forgetful- 
ness of  Self^  the  true,  transmigrating  power  of  genius,  which 
enabled  him  thus  to  pass  his  spirit  into  the  station  of  Royalty, 
and  to  assume  all  the  calm  dignity,  both  of  style  and  feeling,  that 
became  it. 

It  was  to  be  expected  that  the  conduct  of  Lord  Thurlow  at  this 
period  should  draw  down  upon  him  all  the  bitterness  of  those 

* It  is  amusing  to  observe  how  tastes  differ  the  following  is  the  opinion  entertained 
of  this  letter  by  a gentleman,  who,  I understand,  and  can  easily  believe,  is  an  old  estab- 
lished Reviewer.  After  mentioning  that  it  was  attributed  to  the  pen  of  Burke,  he  adds, 
— “ The  story,  however,  does  not  seem  entitled  to  much  credit,  for  the  internal  character 
of  the  paper  is  too  vapid  and  heavy  for  the  genius  of  Burke,  whose  ardent  mind  would 
assuredly  have  diffused  vigor  into  the  composition,  and  the  correctness  of  whose  judg- 
ment would  as  certaimy  have  preserved  it  from  the  charge  of  inelegance  and  grammati- 
cal deficiency.”— Dr.  WATiaNS,  Life  (f  Sheridan. 

Such,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  are  the  periodical  guides  of  public  taste. 


76 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LJFE  OF  THE 


who  were  in  the  secret  of  his  ambidextrous  policy,  and  who 
knew  both  his  disposition  to  desert,  and  the  nature  of  the  motives 
that  prevented  him.  To  Sheridan,  in  particular,  such  a result  of 
a negotiation,  in  which  he  had  been  the  principal  mover  and 
mediator,  could  not  be  otherwise  than  deeply  mortifying.  Of 
all  the  various  talents  with  which  he  was  gifted,  his  dexterity  in 
political  intrigue  and  management  was  that  of  which  he  appears 
to  have  been  most  vain  ; and  this  vanity  it  was  that,  at  a later 
period  of  his  life,  sometimes  led  him  to  branch  off  from  the 
main  body  of  his  party,  upon  secret  and  solitary  enterprises  of 
ingenuity,  which — as  may  be  expected  from  all  such  independent 
movements  of  a partisan — generally  ended  in  thwarting  his 
friends  and  embarrassing  himself. 

In  the  debate  on  that  clause  of  the  Bill,  which  restricted  the 
Regent  from  granting  places  or  pensions  in  reversion,  Mr.  She- 
ridan is  represented  as  having  attacked  Lord  Thurlow  in  terms 
of  the  most  unqualified  severity, — speaking  of  “ the  natural 
ferocity  and  sturdiness  of  his  temper,”  and  of  “ his*  brutal  bluff- 
ness.”  But  to  such  abuse,  unseasoned  by  wit,  Mr.  Sheridan 
was  not  at  all  likely  to  have  condescended,  being  well  aware 
that,  “ as  in  smooth  oil  the  razor  best  is  set,”  so  satire  is  whetted 
to  its  most  perfect  keenness  by  courtesy.  His  clumsy  reporters 
have,  in  this,  as  m almost  all  other  instances,  misrepresented 
him. 

With  equal  personality,  but  more  playfulness,  Mr.  Burke,  in 
exposing  that  wretched  fiction,  by  which  the  Great  Seal  was  con- 
verted into  the  Third  Branch  of  the  Legislature,  and  the  assent 
of  the  King  forged  to  a Bill,  in  which  his  incapacity  to  give 
either  assent  or  dissent  was  declared,  thus  expressed  himself : — 
‘‘  But  what  is  to  be  done  when  the  Crown  is  in  a deliquium  ? It 
was  intended,  he  had  heard,  to  set  up  a man  with  black  brows 
and  a large  wig,  a kind  of  scare-crow  to  the  two  Houses,  who 
was  to  give  a fictitious  assent  in  the  royal  name — and  this  to  be 
binding  on  the  people  at  large !”  The  following  remarkable 
passage,  too,  in  a subsequent  Speech,  is  almost  too  well  known 
to  be  cited : — ‘‘  The  other  House,”  he  said,  “ were  not  yet  pei*- 


RIGHT  Ron.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  7f 


haps  recovered  from  that  extraordinary  burst  of  the  pathetic 
which  had  been  exhibited  the  other  evening  ; they  had  not  yet 
dried  their  eyes,  or  been  restored  to  their  former  placidity,  and 
were  unqualified  to  attend  to  new  business.  The  tears  shed  in 
that  House  on  the  occasion  to  which  he  alluded,  were  not  the 
tears  of  patriots  for  dying  laws,  but  of  Lords  for  their  expiring 
places.  The  iron  tears,  which  flowed  down  Pluto’s  cheek,  rather 
resembled  the  dismal  bubbling  of  the  Styx,  than  the  gentle  mur- 
muring streams  of  Aganippe.” 

While  Lord  Thurlow  was  thus  treated  by  the  party  whom  he 
had  so  nearly  joined,  he  was  but  coldly  welcomed  back  by  the 
Minister  whom  he  had  so  nearly  deserted.  His  reconciliation,  too, 
with  the  latter  was  by  no  means  either  sincere  or  durable, — the  re- 
newal of  friendship  between  politicians,  on  such  occasions,  being 
generally  like  that  which  the  Diable  Boiteux  describes,  as  having 
taken  place  between  himself  and  a brother  sprite, — ‘‘  We  were 
reconciled,  embraced,  and  have  hated  each  other  heartily  ever 
since.” 

In  the  Eegency,  indeed,  and  the  transactions  connected  with 
it,  may  be  found  the  source  of  most  of  those  misunderstandings 
and  enmities,  which  broke  out  soon  after  among  the  eminent  men 
of  that  day,  and  were  attended  with  consequences  so  important 
to  themselves  and  the  country.  By  the  difference  just  mentioned, 
between  Mr.  Pitt  and  Lord  Thurlow,  the  ministerial  arrange- 
ments of  1793  were  facilitated,  and  the  learned  Lord,  after  all  his 
sturdy  pliancy,  consigned  to  a life  of  ineffectual  discontent  ever 
after. 

The  disagreement  between  Mr.  Burke  and  Mr.  Fox,  if  not  ac- 
tually origina\ing  now — and  its  foundation  had  been,  perhaps, 
laid  from  the  beginning,  in  the  total  dissimilarity  of  their  dispo- 
sitions and  ^sentiments — was,  at  least,  considerably  ripened  and 
accelerated  by  the  events  of  this  period,  and  by  the  discontent 
that  each  of  them,  like  partners  in  unsuccessful  play,  was  known 
to  feel  at  the  mistakes  wFicti  the  other  had  committed  in  the 
game.  Mr.  Fox  had,  unquestionably,  every  reason  to  lament  as 
well  as  blame  the  violence  and  virulence  by  which  his  associate 


78 


MEMOIBS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


had  disgraced  the  contest.  The  effect,  indeed,  produced  upon  the 
public  by  the  irreverent  sallies  of  Burke,  and  by  the  too  evident 
triumph,  both  of  hate  and  hope,  with  which  he  regarded  the  ca- 
lamitous situation  of  the  King,  contributed  not  a little  to  render 
still  lower  the  already  low  temperature  of  popularity  at  which 
his  party  stood  throughout  the  country.  It  seemed  as  if  a long 
course  of  ineffectual  struggle  in  politics,  of  frustrated  ambition 
and  unrewarded  talents,  had  at  length  exasperated  his  mind  to  a 
degree  beyond  endurance ; and  the  extravagances  into  which  he 
was  hurried  in  his  speeches  on  this  question,  appear  to  have 
been  but  the  first  workings  of  that  impatience  of  a losing  cause — 
that  resentment  of  failure,  and  disgust  at  his  partners  in  it — 
which  soon  afterwards  found  such  a signal  opportunity  of  ex- 
ploding. 

That  Mr.  Burke,  upon  far  less  grounds,  was  equally  discon- 
tented with  his  co-operators  in  this  emergency,  may  be  collected 
from  the  following  passage  of  a letter  addressed  by  him  in  the 
summer  of  this  year  to  Lord  Charlemont,  and  given  by  Hardy 
in  his  Memoirs  of  that  nobleman : — 

“ Perpetual  failure,  even  though  nothing  in  that  failure  can  be  fixed  on 
the  improper  choice  of  the  object  or  the  injudicious  choice  of  means,  will 
detract  every  day  more  and  more  from  a man^s  credit,  until  he  ends  with- 
out success  and  without  reputation.  In  fact,  a constant  pursuit  even  of 
the  best  objects,  without  adequate  instruments,  detracts  something  from 
the  opinion  of  a man’s  judgment.  This,  I think,  may  be  in  part  the  cause 
of  the  inactivity  of  others  of  our  friends  who  are  in  the  vigor  of  life  and 
in  possession  of  a great  degree  of  lead  and  authority.  I do  not  blame 
them,  though  I lament  that  state  of  the  public  mind,  in  which  the  people 
can  consider  the  exclusion  of  such  talents  and  such  virtues  from  their  ser- 
vice, as  a point  gained  to  them.  The  only  point  in  which  I can  find  any 
thing  to  blame  in  these  friends,  is  their  not  taking  the  eflectual  means, 
which  they  certainly  had  in  their  power,  of  making  an  honorable  retreat 
from  thmr  prospect  of  power  into  the  possession  of  reputation,  by  an  ef- 
fectual defence  of  themselves.  There  was  an  opportunity  which  was  not 
made  use  of  for  that  purpose,  and  which  could  scarcely  have  failed  of  turn- 
ing the  tables  on  their  adversaries.” 

Another  instance  of  the  embittering  influence  of  these  transac- 


mGHT  HOIST.  HiCHARi)  BRINSLEY  SHERlDAN.  79 


tioRs  may  be  traced  in  their  effects  upon  Mr.  Burke  and  Mr. 
Sheridan — between  whom  there  had  arisen  a degree  of  emula- 
tion, amounting  to  jealousy,  which,  though  hitherto  chiefly  con- 
fined to  one  of  the  parties,  received  on  this  occasion  such  an 
addition  of  fuel,  as  spread  it  equally  through  the  minds  of  both, 
and  conduced,  in  no  small  degree,  to  the  explosion  that  followed. 
Both  Irishmen,  and  both  adventurers  in  a region  so  much  elevat- 
ed above  their  original  station,  it  was  but  natural  that  some  such 
feeling  should  kindle  between  them ; and  that,  as  Burke  was 
already  mid-way  in  his  career,  when  Sheridan  was  but  entering 
the  field,  the  stirrings,  whether  of  emulation  or  envy,  should  first 
be  felt  by  the  latter.  It  is,  indeed,  said  that  in  the  ceremonial  of 
Hastings’s  Trial,  the  privileges  enjoyed  by  Burke,  as  a Privy- 
councillor,  were  regarded  with  evident  uneasiness  by  his  brother 
Manager,  who  could  not  as  yet  boast  the  distinction  of  Right 
Honorable  before  his  name.  As  soon,  however,  as  the  rapid  run 
of  Sheridan’s  success  had  enabled  him  to  overtake  his  veteran 
rival,  this  feeling  of  jealousy  took  possession  in  full  force  of  the 
latter,— and  the  close  relations  of  intimacy  and  confidence,  to 
which  Sheridan  was  now  admitted  both  by  Mr.  Pox  and  the 
Prince,  are  supposed  to  have  been  not  the  least  of  those  causes 
of  irritation  and  disgust,  by  which  Burke  was  at  length  driven  to 
break  wdth  the  party  altogether,  and  to  show  his  gigantic  strength 
at  parting,  by  carrying  away  some  of  the  strongest  pillars  of 
Whiggism  in  his  grasp. 

Lastly,  to  this  painful  list  of  the  feuds,  whose  origin  is  to  be  found 
in  the  times  and  transactions  of  which  we  are  speaking,  may  be 
added  that  slight,  but  too  visible  cloud  of  misunderstanding, 
which  arose  between  Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  which, 
though  it  never  darkened  into  any  thing  serious,  continued  to 
pervade  their  intercourse  with  each  other  to  the  last — e^^iibiting 
itself,  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Fox,  in  a degree  of  distrustful  reserve 
not  natural  to  him,  and,  on  the  side  of  Sheridan,  in  some  of  those 
counter-workings  of  influence,  which,  as  1 have  already  said,  he 
was  sometimes  induced  by  his  love  of  the  diplomacy  of  politics 
to  practise. 


§0  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

Among  the  appointments  named  in  contemplation  of  a Regen- 
cy, the  place  of  Treasurer  of  the  Navy  was  allotted  to  Mr.  She- 
ridan. He  would  never,  however,  admit  the  idea  of  certainty  in 
any  of  the  arrangements  so  sanguinely  calculated  upon,  but 
continually  impressed  upon  his  impatient  friends  the  possibility, 
if  not  probability,  of  the  King’s  recovery.  He  had  even  refused 
to  look  at  the  plan  of  the  apartments,  which  he  himself  was  to 
occupy  in  Somerset  House ; and  had  but  just  agreed  that  it 
should  be  sent  to  him  for  examination,  on  the  very  day  when  the 
King  was  declared  convalescent  by  Dr.  Warren.  “He  entered 
his  own  house  (to  use  the  words  of  the  relater  of  the  anecdote) 
at  dinner-time  with  the  news.  There  were  present, — besides 
Mrs.  Sheridan  and  his  sister, — Tickell,  who,  on  the  change  of  ad- 
ministration, was  to  have  been  immediately  brought  into  Parlia- 
ment,— Joseph  Richardson,  who  was  to  have  had  Tickell’s  place 
of  Commissioner  of  the  Stamp-office, — Mr.  Reid,  and  some 
others.  Not  one  of  the  company  but  had  cherished  expectations 
from  the  approaching  change — not  one  of  them,  however,  had 
lost  so  much  as  Mr.  Sheridan.  With  his  wonted  equanimity  he 
announced  the  sudden  turn  affairs  had  taken,  and  looking  round 
him  cheerfully,  as  he  filled  a large  glass,  said, — ‘ Let  us  all  join 
in  drinking  His  Majesty’s  speedy  recovery.’  ” 

The  measures  which  the  Irish  Parliament  adopted  on  this 
occasion,  would  have  been  productive  of  anomalies,  both  theoreti- 
cal and  practical,  had  the  continued  illness  of  the  King  allowed 
the  projected  Regency  to  take  place.  As  it  was,  the  most 
material  consequence  that  ensued  was  the  dismissal  from  their 
official  situations  of  Mr.  Ponsonby  and  other  powerful  individu- 
als, by  which  the  Whig  party  received  such  an  accession  of 
strength,  as  enabled  them  to  work  out  for  their  country  the  few 
blessings  of  liberty  that  still  remain  to  her.  Among  the  victims 
to  their  votes  on  this  question  was  Mr.  Charles  Sheridan,  who, 
on  the  recovery  of  the  King,  was  dismissed  from  his  office  of  Sec- 
retary of  War,  but  received  compensation  by  a pension  of  1200Z. 
a year,  with  the  reversion  of  300Z.  a year  to  his  wife. 

The  ready  and  ardent  burst  of  devotion  with  which  Ireland,  at 


KiaHT  HON.  ElCHARD'BRlKSLEY  SHERIDAN.  81 


this  moment,  like  the  Pythagoreans  at  their  morning  worship, 
turned  to  welcome  with  her  Harp  the  Rising  Sun,  was  long  re- 
membered by  the  object  of  her  homage  with  pride  and  gratitude, 
— and,  let  us  trust,  is  not  even  yet  entirely  forgotten.^ 

It  has  already  been  mentioned  that  to  Mr.  Sheridan,  at  this 
period,  was  entrusted  the  task  of  drawing  up  several  of  the  State 
Papers  of  the  Heir- Apparent.  From  the  rough  copies  of  these 

papers  that  have  fallen  into  my  hands,  I shall  content  myself 
with  selecting  two  Letters — the  first  of  which  was  addressed  by 
the  Prince  to  the  Queen,  immediately  after  the  communication 
to  her  Majesty  of  the  Resolution  of  the  two  Houses  placing  the 
Royal  Household  under  her  control. 

“Before  Your  Majesty  gives  an  answer  to  the  application  for  your  Royal 
permission  to  place  under  Your  Majesty ^s  separate  authority  the  direction 
and  appointment  of  the  King^s  household,  and  thereby  to  separate  from 
the  diflScult  and  arduous  situation  w'hich  I am  unfortunately  called  upon 
to  fill,  the  accustomed  and  necessary  support  which  has  ever  belonged  to 
it,  permit  me,  with  every  sentiment  of  duty  and  affection  towards  Your 
Majesty,  to  entreat  your  attentive  perusal  of  the  papers  which  I have  the 
honor  to  enclose.  They  contain  a sketch  of  the  plan  now  proposed  to 
be  carried  into  execution  as  communicated  to  me  by  Mr.  Pitt,  and  the 
sentiments  which  I found  myself  bound  in  duty  to  declare  in  reply  to  that 
communication.  I take  the  liberty  of  lodging  these  papers  in  Your  Majes- 
ty's hands,  confiding  that,  whenever  it  shall  please  Providence  to  remove 
the  malady  with  which  the  King  my  father  is  now  unhappily  afflicted. 
Your  Majesty  will,  in  justice  to  me  and  to  those  of  the  Royal  family  whose 
affectionate  concurrence  and  support  I have  received,  take  the  earliest 
opportunity  of  submitting  them  to  his  Royal  perusal,  in  order  that  no 
interval  of  time  may  elapse  before  he  is  in  possession  of  the  true  matives 
and  principles  upon  which  I have  acted.  I here  solemnly  repeat  to  Your 
Majesty,  that  among  those  principles  there  is  not  one  which  influences  my 
mind  so  much  as  the  firm  persuasion  I have,  that  my  conduct  in  endea- 
voring to  maintain  unimpaired  and  undivided  the  just  rights,  preroga- 
tives, and  dignity  of  the  Crown,  in  the  person  of  the  King’s  representative, 
is  the  only  line  of  conduct  which  would  entitle  me  to  His  Majesty’s  apprO' 
bation,  or  enable  me  to  stand  with  confidence  in  his  Royal  presence  on  the 

* This  vain  hope  was  expressed  befoie  the  late  decision  on  the  Catholic  question  had 
proved  to  the  Irish  that,  where  their  rights  are  concerned,  neither  public  nor  private 
pledges  are  regarded. 


82 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


nappy  day  of  his  recovery  ; — and,  on  the  contrary,  that  those  who,  under 
color  of  respect  and  attachment  to  his  Koyal  person,  have  contrived  this 
project  for  enfeebling  and  degrading  the  executive  authority  of  the  realm, 
will  be  considered  by  him  as  having  risked  the  happiness  of  his  people 
and  the  security  of  the  throne  itself,  by  establishing  a fatal  precedent 
which  may  hereafter  be  urged  against  his  own  authority,  on  as  plausible 
pretences,  or  revived  against  the  just  rights  of  his  family.  In  speaking 
my  opinions  of  the  motive  of  the  projectors  of  this  scheme,  I trust  I need 
not  assure  Your  Majesty  that  the  respect,  duty,  and^ affection  I owe  to  Your 
Majesty  have  never  suffered  me  for  a single  moment  to  consider  you  as 
countenancing,  in  the  slightest  degree,  their  plan  or  their  purposes.  I 
have  the  firmest  reliance  on  Your  Majesty’s  early  declaration  to  me,  on 
the  subject  of  public  affairs,  at  the  commencement  of  our  common  calami- 
ty ; and,  whatever  may  be  the  efforts  of  evil  or  interested  advisers,  I have 
the  same  confidence  that  you  will  never  permit  or  endure  that  the  influ- 
ence of  your  respected  name  shall  be  profaned  to  the  purpose  of  distress^ 
ing  the  government  and  insulting  the  person  of  your  son.  How  far  those, 
who  are  evidently  pursuing  both  these  objects,  may  be  encouraged  by 
Your  Majesty’s  acceptance  of  one  part  of  the  powers  purposed  to  be 
lodged  in  your  hands,  I will  not  presume  to  say.*  The  proposition  has 
assumed  the  shape  of  a Resolution  of  Parliament,  and  therefore  I am 
silent. 

“ Your  Majesty  will  do  me  the  honor  to  weigh  the  opinions  I formed 
and  declared  before  Parliament  had  entertained  the  plan,  and,  with  those 
before  you,  your  own  good  judgment  will  decide.  I have  only  to  add  that 
whatever  that  decision  may  be,  nothing  will  ever  alter  the  interest  of  true 
affection  and  inviolable  duty,”  &c.  &c. 

The  second  Letter  that  I shall  give,  from  the  rough  copy  of  Mr. 
Sheridan,  was  addressed  by  the  Prince  to  the  King  after  his 
recovery,  announcing  the  intention  of  His  Royal  Highness  to  sub- 
mit to  His  Majesty  a Memorial,  in  vindication  of  his  own  conduct 
and  that  of  his  Royal  brother  the  Duke  of  York  throughout  the 
whole  of  the  proceedings  consequent  upon  His  Majesty’s  indispo- 
sition. 

* In  speaking  of  the  extraordinary  imperium  in  imperio,  with  which  the  command  of 
80  much  power  and  patronage  would  have  invested  the  Queen,  the  Annual  Register 
(Robinson’s)  remarks  justly,  “It  was  not  the  least  extraordinary  circumstance  in  these 
transactions,  that  the  Queen  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  lend  her  name  to  a project  which 
would  eventually  have  placed  her  in  avowed  rivalship  with  her  son,  and,  at  a moment 
when  her  attention  might  seem  to  be  absorbel  by  domestic  calamity,  have  established 
her  at  the  head  of  a political  party.” 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  83 


“ Sin, 

Thinking  it  probable  that  I should  have  been  honored  with  your  com- 
mands to  attend  Your  Majesty  on  Wednesday  last,  I have  unfortunately 
lost  the  opportunity  of  paying  my  duty  to  Your  Majesty  before  your  de- 
parture from  Weymouth.  The  accounts  I have  received  of  Your  Majesty’s 
health  have  given  me  the  greatest  satisfaction,  and  should  it  be  Your  Ma- 
jesty’s intention  to  return  to  Weymouth,  I trust,  Sir,  there  will  be  no  im- 
propriety in  my  then  entreating  Your  Majesty’s  gracious  attention  to  a point 
of  the  greatest  moment  to  the  peace  of  my  own  mind,  and  one  in  which  I 
am  convinced  Your  Majesty’s  feelings  are  equally  interested.  Your  Ma- 
jesty’s letter  to  my  brother  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  in  May  last,  was  the  first 
dh’ect  intimation  I had  ever  received  that  my  conduct  and  that  of  my  bro- 
ther the  Duke  of  York,  during  Your  Majesty’s  late  lamented  illness,  had 
brought  on  us  the  heavy  misfortune  of  Your  Majesty’s  displeasure.  I 
should  be  wholly  unworthy  the  return  of  Your  Majesty’s  confidence  and 
good  opinion,  which  will  ever  be  the  first  objects  of  my  life,  if  I could 
have  read  the  passage  I refer  to  in  that  letter  without  the  deepest  sorrow 
and  regret  for  the  eftect  produced  on  Your  Majesty’s  mind  ; though  at  the 
same  time  I felt  the  firmest  persuasion  that  Your  Majesty’s  generosity  and 
goodness  would  never  permit  that  effect  to  remain^  without  affording  us  an 
opportunity  of  knowing  what  had  been  urged  against  us,  of  replying  to  our 
accusers,  and  of  justifying  ourselves,  if  the  means  of  justification  were  in 
our  power. 

“ Great  however  as  my  impatience  and  anxiety  were  on  this  subject,  I 
felt  it  a superior  consideration  not  to  intrude  any  unpleasing  or  agitating 
discussions  upon  Your  Majesty’s  attention,  during  an  excursion  devoted  to 
the  ease  and  amusement  necessary  for  the  re-establishment  of  Your  Majesty’s 
health.  I determined  to  sacrifice  my  own  feelings,  and  to  wait  with  resig- 
nation till  the  fortunate  opportunity  should  arrive,  when  Your  Majesty’s 
own  paternal  goodness  would,  I was  convinced,  lead  you  even  to  invite  your 
sons  to  that  fair  hearing,  which  your  justice  would  not  deny  to  the  mean- 
est individual  of  your  subjects.  In  this  painful  interval  I have  employed  my- 
self in  drawing  up  a full  statement  and  account  of  my  conduct  during  the 
period  alluded  to,  and  of  the  motives  and  circumstances  which  influenced 
me.  When  these  shall  be  humbly  submitted  to  Your  Majesty’s  considera- 
tion, I may  be  possibly  found  to  have  erred  in  judgment,  and  to  have  acted 
on  mistaken  principles,  but  I have  the  most  assured  conviction  that  I shall 
not  be  found  to  have  been  deficient  in  that  duteous  affection  to  Your  Ma- 
jesty which  nothing  shall  ever  diminish.  Anxious  for  every  thing  that 
may  contribute  to  the  comfort  and  satisfaction  of  Your  Majesty’s  mind,  I 
cannot  omit  this  opportunity  of  lamenting  those  appearances  of  a less 
gracious  disposition  -in  the  Queen,  towards  my  brothers  and  myself,  than 
we  were  accustomed  to  experience  ; and  to  assure  Your  Majesty  that  if 


84 


memoiks  of  the  life  of  the 


by  your  aflfectionate  interposition  these  most  unpleasant  sensations  snould 
be  happily  removed,  it  would  be  an  event  not  less  grateful  to  our  minds 
than  satisfactory  to  Your  Majesty’s  own  benign  disposition.  I will  not  long- 
er, &c.  &c. 

G.  P.” 

The  Statement  here  announced  by  His  Royal  Highness  (a  copy 
of  which  I have  seen,  pccupying,  with  its  Appendix,  near  a hun- 
dred folio  pages),  is  supposed  to  have  been  drawn  up  by  Lord 
Minto. 

To  descend  from  documents  of  such  high  import  to  one  of  a 
much  humbler  nature,  the  following  curious  memorial  was  pre- 
sented this  year  to  Mr.  Sheridan,  by  a literary  gentleman  whom 
the  Whig  party  thought  it  worth  while  to  employ  in  their  ser- 
vice, and  who,  as  far  as  industry  went,  appears  to  have  been  not  un- 
worthy of  his  hire.  Simonides  is  said  to  be  the  first  author  that 
ever  wrote  for  pay,  but  Simonides  little  dreamt  of  the  perfection 
to  which  his  craft  would  one  day  be  brought. 

Memorial  for  Dr,  W,  Fitzroy-street^  Fitzroy- Chapel, 

May,  1787,  Dr.  Parr,  in  the  name  of  his  political  friends,  engaged 
Dr.  T.  to  embrace  those  opportunities,  which  his  connections  with  booksel- 
lers and  periodical  publications  might  afford  him,  of  supporting  the  prin- 
ciples of  their  party.  Mr.  Sheridan  in  August,  1787,  gave  two  notes,  50Z. 
each,  to  Dr.  T.  for  the  first  year’s  service,  which  notes  were  paid  at  different 
periods — the  first  by  Mr.  Sheridan  at  Brookes’s,  in  January,  1788,  the  second 
by  Mr.  Windham  in  May,  1788.  Mr.  Sheridan,  in  different  conversations 
encouraged  Dr.  T.  to  go  on  with  the  expectation  of  a like  sum  yearly,  or 
50Z.  half  yeaidy.  Dr.  T.  with  this  encouragement  engaged  in  different  pub- 
lications for  the  purpose  of  this  agreement.  He  is  charged  for  the  most 
part  with  the  Political  and  Historical  articles  in  the  Analytic  Review,  and 
he  also  occasionally  writes  the  Political  Appendix  to  the  English  Review, 
of  which  particularly  he  wrote  that  for  April  last,  and  that  for  June  last. 
He  also  every  week  writes  an  abridgment  of  Politics  for  the  Whitehall 
Evening  Post,  and  a Political  Review  every  month  for  a Sunday  paper  en- 
titled the  Review  and  Sunday  Advertiser.  In  a Romance,  entitled  ‘ Mam- 

* This  industrious  Scotchman  (of  whose  name  I have  only  given  the  initials)  was  not 
without  some  share  of  humor.  On  hearing  that  a certain  modern  philosopher  had  carried 
his  belief  in  the  perfectibility  of  all  living  things  so  far,  as  to  say  that  he  did  not  despair 
of  seeing  the  day  when  tigers  themselves  might  be  educated,  Dr.  T.  exclaimed,  “ I should 
like  dearly  to  see  him  in  a cage  wifii  twa  of  his  pupils 


BIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  85 


moth,  or  Human  Nature  Displayed,  &c.,’  Dr.  T.  has  shown  how  mindful  he 
is  on  all  occasions  of  his  engagements  to  those  who  confide  in  him.  He  has 
also  occasionally  moved  other  engines,  which  it  would  be  tedious  and  might 
appear  too  trifling  to  mention.  Dr.  T.  is  not  ignorant  that  uncommon  char- 
ges have  happened  in  the  course  of  this  last  year,  that  is,  the  year  prece- 
ding May,  1789.  Instead  of  100^.,  therefore,  he  will  bo  satisfied  with  50/. 
for  that  year,  provided  that  this  abatement  shall  not  form  a precedent 
against  his  claim  of  100/.  annually,  if  his  further  services  shall  be  deemed 
acceptable.  There  is  one  point  on  which  Dr.  T.  particularly  reserved  him- 
self, namely,  to  make  no  attack  on  Mr.  Hastings,  and  this  will  be  attested 
by  Dr.  Parr,  Mr.  Sheridan,  and,  if  the  Doctor  rightly  recollects,  by  Mr. 
Windham. 

“ Fitzroy-street,  21st  July,  1789.’’ 

Taking  into  account  all  the  various  circumstances  that  con- 
curred to  glorify  this  period  of  Sheridan’s  life,  we  may  allow  our- 
selves, I think,  to  pause  upon  it  as  the  apex  of  the  pyramid,  and, 
whether  we  consider  his  fame,  his  talents,  or  his  happiness,  may 
safely  say,  “ Here  is  their  highest  point.”  • 

The  new  splendor  which  his  recent  triumphs  in  eloquence  had 
added  to  a reputation  already  so  illustrious, — the  power  which  he 
seemed  to  have  acquired  over  the  future  destinies  of  the  country, 
by  his  acknowledged  influence  in  the  councils  of  the  Heir  Appa- 
rent, and  the  tribute  paid  to  him,  by  the  avowal  both  of  friends 
and  foes,  that  he  had  used,  this  influence  in  the  late  trying  crisis 
of  the  Regency,  with  a judgment  and  delicacy  that  proved  him 
worthy  of  it, — all  these  advantages,  both  brilliant  and  solid, 
which  subsequent  circumstances  but  too  much  tended  to  weaken, 
at  this  moment  surrounded  him  in  their  newest  lustre  and 
promise. 

He  was  just  now,  too,  in  the  first  enjoyment  of  a feeling,  of 
which  habit  must  have  afterwards  dulled  the  zest,  namely,  the 
proud  consciousness  of  having  surmounted  the  disadvantages  of 
birth  and  station,  and  placed  himself  on  a level  with  the  highest 
and  noblest  of  the  land.  This  footing  in  the  society  of  the  great 
he  could  only  have  attained  by  parliamentary  eminence  ; — as  a 
mere  writer,  with  all  his  genius,  he  never  would  have  been  thus 
admitted  ad  eundem  among  them.  Talents,  in  literature  or  sci- 
ence, unassisted  by  the  advantages  of  birth,  may  lead  to  associa- 


86 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


tion  with  the  great,  but  rarely  to  equality  it  is  a passport 
through  the  well-guarded  frontier,  but  no  title  to  naturalization 
within.  By  hiin,  who  has  not  been  born  among  them,  this  can 
only  be  achieved  by  politics.  In  that  arena,  which  they  look  upon 
as  their  own,  the  Legislature  of  the  land,  let  a man  of  genius,  like 
Sheridan,  but  assert  his  supremacy, — at  once  all  these  barriers 
of  reserve  and  pride  give  way,  and  he  takes,  by  storm,  a station 
at  their  side,  which  a Shakspeare  or  a Newton  would  but  hav;- 
enjoyed  by  courtesy. 

In  fixing  upon  this  period  of  Sheridan’s  life,  as  the  most  shin- 
ing sera  of  his  talents  as  well  as  his  fame,  it  is  not  meant  to  be 
denied  that  in  his  subsequent  warfare  with  the  Minister,  during 
the  stormy  time  of  the  French  Revolution,  he  exhibited  a prow- 
ess of  oratory  no  less  suited  to  that  actual  service,  than  his  elo- 
quence on  the  trial  of  Hastings  had  been  to  such  lighter  tilts  and 
tournaments  of  peace.  But  the  effect  of  his  talents  was  far  less 
striking ; — the  current  of  feeling  through  England  was  against 
him  and,  however  greatly  this  added  to  the  merit  of  his  efforts, 
it  deprived  him  of  that  echo  from  the  public  heart,  by  which  the 
voice  of  the  orator  is  endued  with  a sort  of  multiplied  life,  and, 
as  it  were,  survives  itself  In  the  panic,  top,  that  followed  the 
French  Revolution,  all  eloquence,  but  that  from  the  lips  of  Power, 
was  disregarded,  and  the  voice  of  him  at  the  helm  was  the  only 
one  listened  to  in  the  storm. 

Of  his  happiness,  at  the  period  of  which  we  are  speaking,  in  the 
midst  of  so  much  success  and  hope,  there  can  be  but  little  doubt. 
TFough  pecuniary  embarrassment,  as  appears  from  his  papers, 
had  already  begun  to  w^eave  its  fatal  net  around  him,  there  was 
as  yet  little  more  than  sufficed  to  give  exercise  to  his  ingenuit}!^, 
and  the  resources  of  the  Drury-Lane  treasury  were  still  in  full 
nightly  flow.  The  charms,  by  which  his  home  was  embellished, 
were  such  as  few  other  homes  could  boast ; and,  if  any  thing  made 
it  less  happy  than  it  ought  to  be,  the  cause  was  to  be  found  in  the 
very  brilliancy  of  his  life  and  attractions,  and  in  those  triumphs 
out  of  the  sphere  of  domestic  love,  to  which  his  vanity,  perhaps, 
oflener  than  his  feelings,  impelled  him. 


KIGKT  HON.  EICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  87 


Among  his  own  immediate  associates,  the  gaiety  of  his  spirits 
amounted  almost  to  boyishness.  He  delighted  in  all  sorts  of 
dramatic  tricks  and  disguises  ; and  the  lively  parties,  with  which 
his  country-house  was  always  filled,  were  kept  in  momentary  ex- 
pectation of  some  new  device  for  their  mystification  or  amuse- 
ment.* It  was  not  unusual  to  dispatch  a man  and  horse  seven  or 
eight  miles  for  a piece  of  crape  or  a mask,  or  some  other  such 
trifle  for  these  frolics.  His  friends  Tickell  and  Eichardson,  both 
men  of  wit  and  humor,  and  the  former  possessing  the  same 
degree  of  light  animal  spirits  as  himself,  were  the  constant  com- 
panions of  all  his  social  hours,  and  kept  up  with  him  that  ready 
rebound  of  pleasantry,  without  which  the  play  of  wit  languishes. 

There  is  a letter,  written  one  night  by  Eichardson  at  Tun- 
bridge, j-  (after  waiting  five  long  hours  for  Sheridan,)  so  full  of 
that  mixture  of  melancholy  and  humor,  which  chequered  the 
mind  of  this  interesting  man,  that,  as  illustrative  of  the  character 
of  one  of  Sheridan’s  most  intimate  friends,  it  may  be  inserted 
here : — 

“ Dear  Sheridan,  Half-past  nine^  Mount  Ephraim. 

After  you  had  been  gone  an  hour  or  two  I got  moped  damnably.  Per- 
haps there  is  a sympathy  between  the  corporeal  and  the  mind’s  eye.  In 
the  Temple  I can’t  see  far  before  me,  and  seldom  extend  my  speculations 
on  things  to  come  into  any  fatiguing  sketch  of  reflection.— From  your  win- 

* To  giv-e  some  idea  of  the  youthful  tone  of  this  society,  I shall  mention  one  out  of  many 
anecdotes  related  to  me  by  persons  who  had  themselves  been  ornaments  of  it.  The  la- 
dies having  one  evening  received  the  gentlemen  in  masquerade  dresses,  which,  witJi  their 
obstinate  silence,  made  it  impossible  to  distinguish  one  from  the  other,  the  gentlemen,  in 
their  turn,  invited  the  ladies,  next  evening,  to  asimilar  trial  of  conjecture  on  themselves  ; 
and  notice  being  given  that  they  were  ready  dressed,  Mrs.  Sheridan  and  her  companions 
were  admitted  into  the  dining  room,  where  they  found  a party  of  Turks,  sitting  silent 
and  masked  round  the  table.  After  a long  course  of  the  usual  guesses,  exclamations, 
&c.  &c.,  and  each  lady  having  taken  the  arm  of  the  person  she  was  most  sure  of,  they 
heard  a burst  of  laughter  through  the  half-open  door,  and  looking  there,  saw  the  gentle- 
men themselves  in  their  proper  persons, — the  masks,  upon  whom  they  had  been  lavishing 
their  sagacity,  being  no  other  than  the  maid  servants  of  the  house,  who  had  been  thus 
dressed  up  to  deceive  them. 

t In  the  year  1790,  when  Mrs.  Sheridan  was  trying  the  waters  of  Tunbridge  for  her 
health.  In  a letter  to  Sheridan’s  sister  from  this  place,  dated  September,  1790,  she  says, 
“ I drink  the  waters  once  a day,  and  ride  and  drive  all  the  forenoon,  which  makes  mo 
ravenous  when  I return.  I feel  I am  in  very  good  health,  and  I am  told  that  I am  in  high 
heauty,  two  circumstances  which  ought  and  do  put  me  in  high  good  humor.” 


88 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


(low,  however,  there  was  a tedious  scope  of  black  atmosphere,  that  I think 
won  my  mind  into  a sort  of  fellow-travellership,  pacing  me  again  through 
the  cheerless  waste  of  the  past,  and  presenting  hardly  one  little  rarified 
cloud  to  give  a dim  ornament  to  the  future  ; — not  a star  to  be  seen ; — no 
permanent  light  to  gild  my  horizon  ; — only  the  fading  helps  to  transient 
gaiety  in  the  lamps  of  Tunbridge  ; — no  Law  coffee-house  at  hand,  or  any 
other  house  of  relief  ; — no  antagonist  to  bicker  one  into  a control  of  one’s 
cares  by  a successful  opposition,*  nor  a softer  enemy  to  soothe  one  into  an 
oblivion  of  them. 

‘‘  It  is  damned  foolish  for  ladies  to  leave  their  scissors  about ; — the  frail 
thread  of  a worthless  life  is  soon  snipped.  I wish  to  God  my  fate  had 
been  true  to  its  first  destination,  and  made  a parson  of  me  ; — I should  have 
made  an  excellent  country  Joll.  I think  I can,  with  confidence,  pronounce 
the  character  that  would  have  been  given  of  me  : — He  was  an  indolent 
good-humored  man,  civil  at  all  times,  and  hospitable  at  others,  namely, 
when  he  was  able  to  be  so,  which,  truth  to  say,  happened  but  seldom.  His 
sermons  were  better  than  his  preaching,  and  his  doctrine  better  than  his 
life  ; though  often  grave,  and  sometimes  melancholy,  he  nevertheless  loved 
a joke, — the  more  so  when  overtaken  in  his  cups,  which,  a regard  to  the 
faith  of  history  compels  us  to  subjoin,  fell  out  not  unfrequently.  He  had 
more  thought  than  was  generally  imputed  to  him,  though  it  must  be  owned 
no  man  alive  ever  exercised  thought  to  so  little  purpose.  Rebecca,  his 
wife,  the  daughter  of  an  opulent  farmer  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  small 
living,  brought  him  eighteen  children ; and  he  now  rests  with  those  who, 
being  rather  not  absolutely  vicious  than  actively  good,  confide  in  the 
bounty  of  Providence  to  strike  a mild  average  between  the  contending  ne- 
gations of  their  life,  and  to  allow  them  in  their  future  state,  what  he  or- 

* Richardson,  was  remarkable  for  his  love  of  disputation  ; and  Tickell,  when  hard  pressed 
by  him  in  argument,  used  often,  as  a last  resource,  to  assume  the  voice  and  manner  ol 
Mr.  Fox,  which  he  had  the  power  of  mimicking  so  exactly,  that  Richardson  confessed 
he  sometimes  stood  awed  and  silenced  by  the  resemblance. 

This  disputatious  humor  of  Richardson  was  once  turned  to  account  by  Sheridan  in  a 
very  characteristic  manner.  Having  had  a hackney-coach  in  employ  for  five  or  six 
hours,  and  not  being  provided  with  the  means  of  paying  it,  he  happened  to  espy  Richard- 
son in  the  street,  and  proposed  to  take  him  in  the  coach  some  part  of  his  way.  Tlie  offer 
being  accepted,  Sheridan  lost  no  time  in  starting  a subject  of  conversation,  on  which  he 
knew  his  companion  was  sure  to  become  argumentative  and  animated.  Having,  by 
well-managed  contradiction,  brought  him  to  the  proper  pitch  of  excitement,  he  affected 
to  grow  impatient  and  angry,  himself,  and  saying  that  ‘‘  he  could  not  think  of  staying  in 
the  same  coach  with  a person  that  would  use  such  language,”  pulled  the  check-string, 
and  desired  the  coachman  to  let  him  out.  Richardson,  wholly  occupied  with  the  argu- 
ment, and  regarding  the  retreat  of  liis  opponent  as  an  acknowledgment  of  defeat,  still 
pressed  his  point,  and  even  hollowed  “ more  last  words”  through  the  coach-window  after 
Sheridan,  who,  walking  quietly  horne,  left  the  poor  disputant  responsible  for  the  hea\y 
f^ire  of  the  concb. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  89 


daiued  them  in  this  earthly  pilgrimage,  a snug  neutrality  and  a useless  re- 
pose.— I had  written  thus  far,  absolutely  determined,  under  an  irresistible 
influence  of  the  megrims,  to  set  off  for  London  on  foot,  when,  accidentally 
searching  for  a cardialgic,  to  my  great  delight,  I discovered  three  fugitive 
sixpences,  headed  by  a vagrant  shilling,  immergedin  the  heap  in  my  waist- 
coat pocket.  This  discovery  gave  an  immediate  elasticity  to  my  mind ; 
and  I have  therefore  devised  a scheme,  worthier  the  improved  state  of  my 
spirits,  namely,  to  swindle  your  servants  out  of  a horse,  under  the  pretence 
of  a ride  upon  the  heath,  and  to  jog  on  contentedly  homewards.  So,  un- 
der the  protection  of  Providence,  and  the  mercy  of  footpads,  I trust  we 
shall  meet  again  to-morrow  ; at  all  events,  there  is  nothing  huffish  in  this  ; 
for,  whether  sad  or  merry,  I am  always, 

Most  affectionately  yours, 

‘‘J.  Richardson. 

P.  S.  Your  return  only  confirmed  me  in  my  resolution  of  going  ; fori 
had  worked  myself,  in  five  hours  solitude,  into  such  a state  of  nervous  mel- 
ancholy, that  I found  I could  not  help  the  meanness  of  crying,  even  if  any 
one  looked  me  in  the  face.  I am  anxious  to  avoid  a regular  conviction  of 
so  disreputable  an  infirmity  besides,  the  night  has  become  quite  plea- 
sant.” 

Between  Tick  ell  and  Sheridan  there  was  a never-ending  “ skir- 
mish of  wit,”  both  verbal  and  practical ; and  the  latter  kind,  in 
particular,  was  carried  on  between  them  with  all  the  waggery, 
and,  not  unfrequently,  the  malice  of  school-boys.”^  Tickell,  much 
less  occupied  by  business  than  his  friend,  had  always  some  poli- 
tical esprit  on  the  anvil ; and  sometimes  these  trifles  were 

produced  by  them  jointly.  The  following  string  of  pasquinades 
so  well  known  in  political  circles,  and  written,  as  the  reader  will 
perceive,  at  different  dates,  though  principally  by  Sheridan,  owes 
some  of  its  stanzas  to  Tickell,  and  a few  others,  I believe,  to  Lord 
John  Townshend.  I have  strung  together,  without  regard  to 

* On  one  occasion,  Sheridan  having  covered  the  floor  of  a dark  passage,  leading  from 
the  drawing  room,  with  all  the  plates  and  dishes  of  the  house,  ranged  closely  together, 
provoked  his  unconscious  play-fellow  to  pursue  him  into  the  midst  of  them.  Having  left 
a path  for  his  own  escape,  he  passed  through  easily,  but  Tickell,  railing  at  full  length  into 
me  ambuscade,  was  very  much  cut  in  several  places.  The  next  day.  Lord  John  Towns- 
hend, on  paying  a visit  to  the  bed-side  of  Tickell,  found  him  covered  over  with  patches, 
and  indignantly  vowing  vengeance  against  Sheridan  for  this  unjustifiable  trick.  In  the 
midst  of  his  anger,  however,  he  could  not  help  exclaiming,  with  the  true  feeSng  of  an 
amateur  of  this  sort  of  mischief,  “ but  how  arna?;ingly  well  done  it  was  I’’ 


90 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


chronology,  the  best  of  these  detached  lampoons.  Time  having 
removed  their  venom,  and  'with  it,  in  a great  degree,  their  wit, 
they  are  now,  like  dried  snakes,  mere  harmless  objects  of  cun« 
osity. 

“Johnny  W — Iks,  Johnny  W — Iks,* 

Thou  greatest  of  bilks, 

How  chang’d  are  the  notes  you  now  sing  \ 

Your  fam’d  Forty-five 
Is  Prerogative, 

And  your  blasphemy,  ‘ God  save  the  Kbg,^ 

Johnny  W — 

And  your  blasphemy,  ‘ God  save  the  King.' " 

“ Jack  Ch  -ch— 11,  Jack  Ch— ch— 11, 

The  town  sure  you  search  ill. 

Your  mob  has  disgraced  all  your  brags  j 
When  next  you  draw  out 
Your  hospital  rout. 

Do,  prithee,  afibrd  them  clean  rags. 

Jack  Ch— ch— 11, 

Do,  prithee,  afford  them  clean  rags.” 

“ Captain  K — th.  Captain  K — th. 

Keep  your  tongue  ’twdxt  your  teeth. 

Lest  bed-chamber  tricks  you  betray ; 

And,  if  teeth  you  want  more. 

Why,  my  bold  Commodore, — 

You  may  borrow  of  Lord  G — 11 — y, 

Captain  K — th, 

You  may  borrow  of  Lord  G — 11 — y.” 

“ t doe  M— wb — y,  Joe  M — wb — y. 

Your  throat  sure  must  raw  be. 

In  striving  to  make  yourself  heard  ; 

But  it  pleased  not  the  pigs,  i 

Nor  the  Westminster  Whigs, 

That  your  Knighthood  should  utter  one  word, 

Joe  M — wb — y. 

That  your  Knighthood  should  utter  one  word.” 

* In  Sheridan’s  copy  of  the  stanzas  written  by  him  in  this  metre  at  the  time  of  the 
Union,  (beginning  “Zooks,  Harry!  zooks,  Harry  !”  he  entitled  them,  “ An  admirable 
new  ballad,  wdiich  goes  excellently  well  to  the  tune  of 
“Mrs.  Arne,  Mrs.  Arne, 

It  gives  me  concam,”  &c. 

f This  stanza  and,  I rather  thudc,  the  next  were  by  Lord  John  Townshend. 


BIGHT  HON.  EICHAKD  BEINSLEY  SHERIDAN, 


M — ntm — res,  M — ntm — res, 

Whom  nobody  for  is, 

And  for  whom  we  none  of  us  care  ; 

From  Dublin  you  came — 

It  had  much  been  the  same 
If  your  Lordship  had  staid  where  you  were, 
M — ntm— res, 

If  your  Lordship  had  staid  where  you  were.’^ 

“ Lord  0 — gl — y,  Lord  0 — gl — y, 

You  spoke  mighty  strongly — 

Who  you  are,  tho’,  all  people  admire ! 

But  ITl  let  you  depart, 

For  I believe  in  my  heart. 

You  had  rather  they  did  not  inquire. 

Lord  0— gl— y, 

You  had  rather  they  did  not  inqure.^^ 

Gl — nb — e,  Gl — nb — e. 

What’s  good  for  the  scurvy  ? 

For  ne’er  be  your  old  trade  forgot — 

In  your  arms  rather  quarter 
A pestle  and  mortar. 

And  your  crest  be  a spruce  gallipot, 

Gl — nb — e, 

And  your  crest  be  a spruce  gallipot.’^ 

“ Gl — nb — e,  Gl — nb — e. 

The  world’s  topsy-tu^vy. 

Of  this  truth  you’re  the  fittest  attester ; 

For,  who  can  deny 

That  the  Low  become  High, 

When  the  King  makes  a Lord  of  Silvester, 
Gl— nb — e, 

When  the  King  makes  a Lord  of  Silvester.^' 

«Mr.  P—1,  Mr.  P—1, 

In  return  for  your  zeal, 

I am  told  they  have  dubb’d  you  Sir  Bob ; 
Having  got  wealth  enough 
By  coarse  Manchester  stuff. 

For  honors  you’ll  now  drive  a job, 

Mr.  P—1, 

For  honors  you’ll  now  drive  a job.*’ 


92 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THB 


“ Oh  poor  B— ks,  oh  poor  B— ks, 

S.till  condemned  to  the  ranks, 

Nor  e’en  yet  from  a private  promoted ; 

Pitt  ne’er  will  relent, 

Though  he  knows  you  repent. 

Having  once  or  twice  honestly  voted, 

Poor  B — ks, 

Having  once  or  twice  honestly  voted.’^ 

Dull  H-— 1— y,  dull  H— 1— y. 

Your  audience  feel  ye 
A speaker  of  very  great  weight. 

And  they  wish  you  were  dumb. 

When,  with  ponderous  hum. 

You  lengthened  the  drowsy  debate. 

Dull  H— l~y, 

You  lengthened  the  drowsy  debate.” 

There  are  about  as  many  more  of  these  stanzas,  written  at 
different  intervals,  according  as  new  victims,  with,  good  names 
for  rhyming,  presented  themselves, — the  metre  being  a most 
tempting  medium  for  such  lampoons.  There  is.  Indeed,  appended 
to  one  of  Sheridan’s  copies  of  them,  a long  list  (like  a Tablet  of 
Proscription),  containing  about  fifteen  other  names  marked  out 
for  the  same  fate ; and  it  will  be  seen  by  the  following  specimen 
that  some  of  them  had  a very  narrow  escape : 

<<WillC— rt— s ” 

V — ns — t — t,  y — ns — t — t, — for  little  thou  fit  art.” 

“ Will  D — nd — s.  Will  D — nd — s, — were  you  only  an  ass.” 

‘‘  L — ghb — ^h, — thorough.” 

“ Sam  H — rsl — y,  Sam  H — rsl — y, coarsely.” 

P — ttym — n-  P — ttym — n, — speak  truth,  if  you  can.” 

But  it  was  not  alone  for  such  lively  purposes^  that  Sheridan 
and  his  two  friends  drew  upon  their  joint  wits ; they  had  also  but 

♦ As  I have  been  mentioning  some  instances  of  Sheridan’s  love  of  practical  jests,  I 
shall  take  ihis  opportunity  of  adding  one  more  anecdote,  which  I believe  is  pretty  well 
known,  but  which  I have  had  the  advantage  of  hearing  from  the  person  on  whom  the 
joke  was  inflicted. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  O’B (afterwards  Bishop  of .)  having  arrived  to  dinner  at 

Sheridan’s  country-house.  ne?v  Ostefley,  where,  as  usual,  a gay  party  was  collected, 


EIGHT  HON.  EICHAED  BEINSLEY  SHEEIDAN.  93 


too  much  to  do  with  subjects  of  a far  diiferent  nature — with  debts, 
bonds,  judgments,  writs,  and  all  those  other  humiliating  matters 
of  fact,  that  bring  Law  and  Wit  so  often  and  so  unnaturally  in 
contact.  That  they  were  serviceable  to  each  other,  in  their  de- 
fensive alliance  against  duns,  is  fully  proved  by  various  docu- 
ments ; and  I have  now  before  me  articles  of  agreement,  dated 
in  1787,  by  which  Tick  ell,  to  avert  an  execution  from  the  Theatre, 
bound  himself  as  security  for  Sheridan  in  the  sum  of  250^., — 
the  arrears  of  an  annuity  charged  upon  Sheridan’s  moiety  of  the 
property.  So  soon  did  those  pecuniary  difficulties,  by  which  his 
peace  and  character  were  afterwards  undermined,  begin  their 
operations. 

Yet  even  into  transactions  of  this  nature,  little  as  they  are 
akin  to  mirth,  the  following  letter  of  Richardson  will  show  that 
these  brother  wits  contrived  to  infuse  a portion  of  gaiety  : 

“ Dear  Sheridan,  Essex-Street^  Saturday  evening. 

‘‘  I had  a terrible  long  batch  with  Bobby  this  morning,  after  I wrote  to 
you  by  Francois.  I have  so  far  succeeded  that  he  has  agreed  to  continue 
the  day  of  trial  as  we  call  it  (that  is,  in  vulgar,  unlearned  language,  to  put 
it  olF)  from  Tuesday  till  Saturday.  He  demands,  as  preliminaries,  that 
Wright’s  bill  of  500Z.  should  be  given  up  to  him,  as  a prosecution  had  been 

(consisting  of  General  Burgoyne,  Mrs.  Crewe,  Tickell,  &c.)  it  was  proposed  that  on  the 
next  day  (Sunday)  the  Rev.  Gentleman  should,  on  gaining  the  consent  of  the  resident 
clergyman,  give  a specimen  of  his  talents  as  a preacher  in  the  village  church.  On  his 
objecting  that  he  was  not  provided  with  a sermon,  his  host  offered  to  write  one  for  liini, 
if  he  would  conspnt  to  preach  it ; and,  the  offer  being  accepted,  Sheridan  left  the  com- 
pany early,  and  did  not  return  for  the  remainder  of  the  evening.  The  following  morning 

Mr.  O’B found  the  manuscript  by  his  bed-side,  tied  together  neatly  (as  he  described 

it)  with  riband  ; — the  subject  of  the  discourse  being  the  “Abuse  of  Riches.”  Having 
read  it  over  and  corrected  some  theological  errors,  (such  as  “it  is  easier  for  a camel,  a& 
Moses  say &c.)  he  delivered  the  sermon  in  his  most  impressive  style,  much  to  the  de- 
light of  his  own  party,  and  to  the  satisfaction,  as  he  unsuspectingly  flattered  himself,  of 
all  the  rest  of  the  congregation,  among  whom  was  Mr.  Sheridan’s  wealthy  neighbor  Mr. 
C . 

Some  months  afterwards,  however,  Mr.  O’B perceived  that  the  family  of  Mr. 

C , with  whom  lie  had  previously  been  intimate,  treated  him  with  marked  coldness  ; 

and,  on  his  expressing  some  innocent  wonder  at  the  circumstance,  was  at  length  informed, 
to  his  dismay,  by  General  Burgoyne,  that  the  sermon  which  Sheridan  had  written  for  him 

was,  throughout,  a personal  attack  upon  Mr.  C , who  had  at  that  time  rendered 

himself  very  unpopular  in  the  neighborhood  by  some  harsh  conduet  to  the  poor,  and  to 
whom  every  one  in  the  church,  except  the  unconscious  preacher,  applied  almost  every 
sentence  of  the  sermon . 


94 


MEMOIRS  OP  THE  LIFE  OP  THE 


commenced  against  him,  which,  however,  he  has  stopped  by  an  injunction 
from  the  Court  of  Chancery.  This,  if  the  transaction  he  as  he  states  it,  ap 
pears  reasonable  enough.  He  insists,  besides,  that  the  bill  should  undergo 
the  most  rigid  examination  ; that  you  should  transmit  your  objections,  to 
which  he  will  send  answers,  (for  the  point  of  a personal  interview  has  not 
been  yet  carried,)  and  that  the  whole  amount  at  last,  whatever  it  may  be, 
should  have  your  clear  and  satisfied  approbation  : — nothing  to  be  done  with 
out  this — almighty  honor ! 

‘‘  All  these  things  being  done,  I desired  to  know  what  was  to  be  the  re- 
sult at  last : — ‘ Surely,  after  having  carried  so  many  points,  you  will  think 
it  only  common  decency  to  relax  a little  as  to  the  time  of  payment  ? You 
will  not  cut  your  pound  of  fiesh  the  nearest  from  the  merchant’s  heart?’ 
To  this  Bobides,  ‘ I must  have  2000Z.  put  in  a shape  of  practicable  use,  and 
payment  immediately ; — for  the  rest  I will  accept  security.’  This  was 
strongly  objected  to  by  me,  as  Jewish  in  the  extreme  ; but,  however,  so  we 
parted.  You  will  think  with  me,  I hope,  that  something  has  been  done, 
however,  by  this  meeting.  It  has  opened  an  access  to  a favorable  adjust- 
ment, and  time  and  trist  may  do  much.  I am  to  see  him  again  on  Monday 
morning  at  two,  so  pray  don’t  go  out  of  town  to-morrow  without  my  seeing 
you.  The  matter  is  of  immense  consequence.  I never  knew  till  to-day 
that  the  process  had  been  going  on  so  long.  I am  convinced  he  could  force 
you  to  trial  next  Tuesday  with  all  your  infii’mities  green  upon  your  head  ; 
so  pray  attend  to  it. 

“ R.  B.  Sheridan,  Esq.  “ Yops  ever, 

“ Lower  Grosvenor-Street.  “ J.  Richardson.” 

This  letter  was  written  in  the  year  1792,  when  Sheridan’s  in- 
volvements had  begun  to  thicken  around  him  more  rapidly. 
There  is  another  letter,  about  the  same  date,  still  more  charac 
teristic, — where,  after  beginning  in  evident  anger  and  distress  of 
mind,  the  writer  breaks  off,  as  if  irresistibly,  into  the  old  strain  ol 
playfulness  and  good  humor. 

Dear  Sheridan,  Wednesday,  Essex-Street,  July  30. 

“ I write  to  you  with  more  unpleasant  feelings  than  I ever  did  in  my  lil. 
Westly,  after  having  told  me  for  the  last  three  weeks  that  nothing 
wanting  for  my  accommodation  but  your  consent,  having  told  me  so,  so  late 
as  Friday,  sends  me  word  on  Monday  that  he  would  not  do  it  at  all.  In  four 
days  I have  a cognovit  expires  for  200Z.  I can’t  suffer  my  family  to  be  turn- 
ed into  the  streets  if  I can  help  it.  I have  no  resource  but  my  abilities, 
such  as  they  are.  I certainly  mean  to  write  something  in  the  course  of  the 
summer.  As  a matter  of  business  and  bargain  I caii  have  no  higher  hop® 


iUGIlT  HON.  -RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  95 


about  it  than  that  you  won^t  suffer  by  it.  However,  if  you  won't  take  it 
somebody  else  must^  for  no  human  consideration  will  induce  me  to  leave 
any  means  untried,  that  may  rescue  my  family  from  this  impending  misfor 
tune. 

“ For  the  sake  of  convenience  you  will  probably  give  me  the  importance 
of  construing  this  into  an  incendiary  letter.  I wish  to  God  you  may,  and 
order  your  treasurer  to  deposit  the  acceptance  accordingly ; for  nothing 
can  be  so  irksome  to  me  as  that  the  nations  of  the  earth  should  think  there 
had  been  any  interruption  of  friendship  between  you  and  me  ; and  though 
that  would  not  be  the  case  in  fact,  both  being  influenced,  I must  believe, 
by  a necessity  which  we  could  not  control,  yet  the  said  nations  would  so  in- 
terpret it.  If  I don’t  hear  from  you  before  Friday,  I shall  conclude  that 
you  leave  me  in  this  dire  scrape  io  shift  for  myself. 

“ R.  B.  Bheridan^  Esq.  Yours  ever, 

Tdeworth,  Middlesex,  “ J.  Richardson/^ 


9^ 


MEMOIIIS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


OHAPTEE  IV. 

FUENCH  KEVOLUTION. — MR.  BURKE. — HIS  BREACH  WITH 
MR.  SHERIDAN. — DISSOLUTION  OF  PARLIAMENT. — MR. 
BURKE  AND  MR.  FOX. — RUSSIAN  ARMAMENT. — ROYAL 
SCOTCH  BOROUGHS. 

We  have  now  to  consider  the  conduct  and  opinions  of  Mr. 
Sheridan,  during  the  measures  and  discussions  consequent  upon 
the  French  Revolution, — an  event,  by  which  the  minds  of  men 
throughout  all  Europe  were  thrown  into  a state  of  such  feverish 
excitement,  that  a more  than  usual  degree  of  tolerance  should 
be  exercised  towards  the  errors  and  extremes  into  which  all  par 
ties  were  hurried  during  the  paroxysm.  There  was,  indeed,  no 
rank  or  class  of  society,  whose  interests  and  passions  were  not 
deeply  involved  in  the  question.  The  powerful  and  the  rich, 
both  of  State  and  Church,  must  naturally  have  regarded  with 
dismay  the  advance  of  a political  heresy,  whose  path  they  saw 
strewed  over  with  the  broken  talismans  of  rank  and  authority. 
Many,  too,  with  a disinterested  reverence  for  ancient  institutions, 
trembled  to  see  them  thus  approached  by  rash  hands,  whose  tal- 
ents for  ruin  were  sufficiently  certain,  but  whose  powers  of  re- 
construction were  yet  to  be  tried.  On  the  other  hand,  the  easy 
triumph  of  a people  over  their  oppressors  was  an  example  which 
could  not  fail  to  excite  the  hopes  of  the  many  as  actively  as  the 
fears  of  the  few.  The  great  problem  of  the  natural  rights  of 
mankind  seemed  about  to  be  solved  in  a manner  most  flattering 
to  the  majority ; the  zeal  of  the  lover  of  liberty  was  kindled 
into  enthusiasm,  by  a conquest  achieved  for  his  cause  upon  an 
arena  so  vast;  and  many,  who  before  would  have  smiled  at  the 
doctrine  of  human  perfectibility,  now  imagined  they  saw,  in 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHAili)  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  9t 

what  the  Revolution  performed  and  promised,  almost  enough  to 
sanction  the  indulgence  of  that  splendid  dream.  It  was  natural, 
too,  that  the  greater  portion  of  that  unemployed,  and,  as  it  were, 
homeless  talent,  which,  in  all  great  communities,  is  ever  abroad 
on  the  wing,  uncertain  where  to  settle,  should  now  swarm  round 
the  light  of  the  new  principles, — while'  all  those  obscure  but 
ambitious  spirits,  who  felt  their  aspirings  clogged  by  the  medium 
in  which  they  were  sunk,  would  as  naturally  welcome  such  a 
state  of  political  effervescence,  as  might  enable  them,  like  enfran- 
chised air,  to  mount  at  once  to  the  surface. 

Amidst  all  these  various  interests,  imaginations,  and  fears, 
which  were  brought  to  life  by  the  dawn  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, it  is  not  surprising  that  errors  and  excesses,  both  of  con- 
duct and  opinion,  should  be  among  the  first  products  of  so  new 
and  sudden  a movement  of  the  whole  civilized  world  ; — that  the 
friends  of  popular  rights,  presuming  upon  the  triumph  that  had 
been  gained,  should,  in  the  ardor  of  pursuit,  push  on  the  van- 
guard of  their  principles,  somewhat  farther  than  was  consistent 
with  prudence  and  safety ; or  that,  on  the  other  side,  Authority 
and  its  supporters,  alarmed  by  the  inroads  of  the  Revolutionary 
spirit,  should  but  the  more  stubbornly  intrench  themselves  in 
established  abuses,  and  make  the  dangers  they  apprehended  from 
liberty  a pretext  for  assailing  its  very  existence. 

It  was  not  long  before  these  effects  of  the  French  Revolution 
began  to  show  themselves  very  strikingly  in  the  politics  of  Eng- 
land ; and,  singularly  enough,  the  two  extreme  opinions,  to  which, 
as  I have  just  remarked,  that  disturbing  event  gave  rise,  instead 
of  first  appearing,  as  might  naturally  be  expected,  the  one  on 
the  side  of  Government,  and  the  other  on  that  of  the  Opposition, 
both  broke  out  simultaneously  in  the  very  heart  of  the  latter 
body. 

On  such  an  imagination  as  that  of  Burke,  the  scenes  now  pass- 
ing in  France  were  every  way  calculated  to  make  a most  vivid 
impression.  So  susceptible  was  he,  indeed,  of  such  impulses, 
arid  so  much  under  the  control  of  the  imaginative  department  of 
bis  intellect,  that,  whatever  might  have  been  the  accidental  mood 

VOL.  II.  5 


98  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OP  THE 

of  hiss  mind,  at  the  moment  when  this  astounding  event  first 
burst  upon  him,  it  would  most  probably  have  acted  as  a sort  of 
mental  catalepsy,  and  fixed  his  reason  in  the  very  attitude  in 
which  it  found  it.  He  had,  however,  been  prepared  for  the  part 
which  he  now  took  by  much  more  deep  and  grounded  causes.  It 
was  rather  from  circumstances  than  from  choice,  or  any  natural 
affinity,  that  Mr.  Burke  had  ever  attached  himself  to  the  popular 
party  in  politics.  There  was,  in  truth,  nothing  democratic  about 
him  but  his  origin; — his  tastes  were  all  on  the  side  of  the  splen- 
did and  the  arbitrary.  The  chief  recommendation  of  the  cause 
of  India  to  his  fancy  and  his  feelings  was  that  it  involved  the  fate 
of  ancient  dynasties,  and  invoked  retribution  for  the  downfall 
of  thrones  and  princedoms,  to  which  his  imagination,  always 
most  affected  by  objects  at  a distance,  lent  a state  and  splendor 
that  did  not,  in  sober  reality,  belong  to  them.  Though  doomed 
to  make  Whiggism  his  habitual  haunt,  he  took  his  perch  at  all 
times  on  its  loftiest  branches,  as  far  as  possible  away  from  popu- 
lar contact ; and,  upon  most  occasions,  adopted  a sort  of  baro- 
nial view  of  liberty,  as  rather  a question  lying  between  the 
Throne  and  the  Aristocracy,  than  one  in  which  the  people  had  a 
right  to  any  efficient  voice  or  agency.  Accordingly,  the  question 
of  Parliamentary  Reform,  from  the  first  moment  of  its  agitation, 
found  in  him  a most  decided  opponent. 

This  inherent  repugnance  to  popular  principles  became  natu- 
rally heightened  into  impatience  and  disgust,  by  the  long  and 
fruitless  warfare  which  he  had  waged  under  their  banner,  and 
the  uniform  ill  success  with  v/hich  they  had  blasted  all  his  strug- 
gles for  wealth  and  power.  Nor  was  he  in  any  better  temper 
with  his  associates  in  the  cause, — having  found  that  the  ascen- 
dancy, which  he  had  formerly  exercised  over  them,  and  which, 
in  some  degree,  consoled  him  for  the  want  of  official  dominion, 
was  of  late  considerably  diminished,  if  not  wholly  transferred 
to  others.  Sheridan,  as  has  been  stated,  was  the  most  promi- 
nent object  of  his  jealousy  ; — and  it  is  curious  to  remark  how 
much,  even  in  feelings  of  this  description,  the  aristocratical  biaf 
of  his  mind  betrayed  itself.  For,  though  Mr.  Fox,  too,  had 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARI)  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  99 


overtaken  and  even  passed  him  in  the  race,  assuming  that  station 
in  politics  which  he  himself  had  previously  held,  yet  so  para- 
mount did  those  claims  of  birth  and  connection,  by  which  the  new 
leader  came  recommended,  appear  in  his  eyes,  that  he  submitted 
to  be  superseded  by  him,  not  only  without  a murmur,  but  cheer 
fully.  To  Sheridan,  however,  who  had  no  such  hereditary  pass- 
port to  pre-eminence,  he  could  not  give  way  without  heart-burn- 
ing and  humiliation  ; and  to  be  supplanted  thus  by  a rival  son 
of  earth  seemed  no  less  a shock  to  his  superstitious  notions 
about  rank,  than  it  was  painful  to  his  feelings  of  self-love  and 
pride. 

Such,  as  far  as  can  be  ascertained  by  a distant  observer  of 
those  times,  was  the  temper  in  which  the  first  events  of  the  Ee 
volution  found  the  mind  of  this  remarkable  man ; — and,  power 
fully  as  they  would,  at  any  time,  have  appealed  to  his  imagination 
and  prejudices,  the  state  of  irritability  to  which  he  had  been 
wrought  by  the  causes  already  enumerated  peculiarly  predis- 
posed him,  at  this  moment,  to  give  way  to  such  impressions 
without  restraint,  and  even  to  welcome  as  a timely  relief  to  his 
pride,  the  mighty  vent  thus  afforded  to  the  “ splendidahilis‘'*  with 
which  it  was  charged. 

There  was  indeed  much  to  animate  and  give  a zest  to  the  new 
part  which  he  now  took.  He  saw  those  principles,  to  which  he 
owed  a deep  grudge,  for  the  time  and  the  talents  he  had  wasted 
in  their  service,  now  embodied  in  a shape  so  wild  and  alarm- 
ing, as  seemed  to  justify  him,  on  grounds  of  public  safety, 
in  turning  against  them  the  whole  powers  of  his  mind,  and 
thus  enabled  him,  opportunely,  to  dignify  desertion,  by  throw- 
ing the  semblance  of  patriotism  and  conscientiousness  round 
the  reality  of  defection  and  revenge.  He  saw  the  party,  too, 
who,  from  the  moment  they  had  ceased  to  be  ruled  by  him, 
were  associated  only  in  his  mind  with  recollections  of  unpopu- 
larity and  defeat,  about  to  adopt  a line  of  politics  which  his  long 
knowledge  of  the  people  of  England,  and  his  sagacious  foresight 
of  the  consequences  of  the  French  Revolution,  fully  convinced 
him  would  lead  to  the  same  barren  and  mortifying  results.  On 


lOt)  MEMOIRS  OR  THE  LIFE  OP  THE 

tne  contrary,  the  cause  to  which  he  proffered  his  alliance,  would, 
he  was  equally  sure,  by  arraying  on  its  side  all  the  rank,  riches, 
and  religion  of  Europe,  enable  him  at  length  to  feel  that  sense 
of  power  and  triumph,  for  which  his  domineering  spirit  had  so 
long  panted  in  vain.  In  this  latter  hope,  indeed,  of  a speedy 
triumph  over  Jacobinism,  his  temperament,  as  was  often  the 
case,  outran  his  sagacity ; for,  while  he  foresaw  clearly  that  the 
dissolution  of  social  order  in  France  would  at  last  harden  into  a 
military  tyranny,  he  appeared  not  to  be  aware  that  the  violent 
measures  which  he  recommended  against  her  would  not  only  hasten 
this  formidable  result,  but  bind  the  whole  mass  of  the  people 
into  union  and  resistance  during  the  process. 

Lastly — To  these  attractions,  of  various  kinds,  with  which  the 
cause  of  Thrones  was  now  encircled  in  the  eyes  of  Burke,  must 
be  added  one,  which,  however  it  may  still  further  disenchant  our 
views  of  his  conversion,  cannot  wholly  be  omitted  among  the  in- 
ducements to  his  change,- — and  this  was  the  strong  claim  upon  the 
gratitude  of  government,  which  his  seasonable  and  powerful  advo- 
cacy in  a crisis  so  difficult  established  for  him,  and  which  the  nar- 
row and  embarrassed  state  of  his  circumstances  rendered  an  ob- 
ject by  no  means  of  secondary  importance  in  his  views.  Unfor- 
tunately,— from  a delicate  wish,  perhaps,  that  the  reward  should 
not  appear  to  come  in  too  close  coincidence  with  the  service, — the 
pension  bestowed  upon  him  arrived  too  late  to  admit  of  his  deriv- 
ing much  more  from  it  than  the  obloquy  by  which  it  was  accom- 
panied. 

The  consequence,  as  is  well  known,  of  the  new  course  taken  by 
Burke  was  that  the  speeches  and  writings  which  he  henceforward 
produced,  and  in  which,  as  usual,  his  judgment  was  run  away  with 
by  his  temper,  form  a complete  contrast,  in  spirit  and  tendency, 
to  all  that  he  had  put  on  record  in  the  former  part  of  his  life. 
He  has,  indeed,  left  behind  him  two  separate  and  distinct  armo- 
ries of  opinion,  from  which  both  Whig  and  Tory  may  furnish 
themselves  with  weapons,  the  most  splendid,  if  not  the  most 
highly  tempered,  that  ever  Genius  and  Eloquence  have  conde- 
scended to  bequeath  to  Party.  He  has  thus  too,  by  his  own  per- 


EIGHT  HON.  RICHAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  101 

sonal  versatility,  attained,  in  the  world  of  politics,  what  Shaks- 
peare,  by  the  versatility  of  his  characters,  achieved  for  the  world 
in  general, — namely,  such  a universality  of  application  to  all  opin- 
ions and  purposes,  that  it  would  be  difficult  for  any  statesman  of 
any  party  to  find  himself  placed  in  any  situation,  for  which  he 
could  not  select  some  golden  sentence  from  Burke,  either  to 
strengthen  his  position  by  reasoning  or  illustrate  and  adorn  it  by 
fancy.  While,  therefore,  our  respect  for  the  man  himself  is 
diminished  by  this  v/ant  of  moral  identity  observable  through  his 
life  and  writings,  we  are  but  the  more  disposed  to  admire  that 
unrivalled  genius,  which  could  thus  throw  itself  out  in  so  many 
various  directions  with  equal  splendor  and  vigor.  In  general, 
political  deserters  lose  their  value  and  power  in  the  very  act,  and 
bring  little  more  than  their  treason  to  the  new  cause  which  they 
espouse : — 

“ Forth  in  armis 

Ccesaris  Lahienus  erat ; nunc  transfuga  vilisF 

But  Burke  was  mighty  in  either  camp  ; and  it  would  have 
taken  two  great  men  to  effect  what  he,  by  this  division  of  himself, 
achieved.  His  mind,  indeed,  lies  parted  asunder  in  his  works, 
like  some  vast  continent  severed  by  a convulsion  of  nature, — each 
portion  peopled  by  its  own  giant  race  of  opinions,  differing  alto- 
gether in  features  and  language,  and  committed  in  eternal  hostil- 
ity with  each  other. 

It  was  during  the  discussions  on  the  Army  Estimates,  at  the 
commencement  of  the  session  of  1790,  that  the  difference  between 
Mr.  Burke  and  his  party  in  their  views  of  the  French  Revolution 
first  manifested  itself.  Mr.  Fox  having  taken  occasion  to  praise 
the  late  conduct  of  the  French  Guards  in  refusing  to  obey  the  dic- 
tates of  the  Court,  and  having  declared  that  he  exulted,  “ both 
from  feelings  and  from  principles,”  in  the  political  change  that  had 
been  brought  about  in  that  country,  Mr.  Burke,  in  answering  him, 
entered  fully,  and,  it  must  be  owned,  most  luminously  into  the 
question, — expressing  his  - apprehension,  lest  the  example  of 
Fran3e,  which  had,  at  a former  period,  threatened  England  with 


102 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


the  contagion  of  despotism,  should  now  he  the  means  of  introdu- 
cing among  her  people  the  no  less  fatal  taint  of  Democracy  and 
Atheism.  After  son  .e  eloquent  tributes  of  admiration  to  Mr. 
Fox,  rendered  more  animated,  perhaps,  by  the  consciousness  that 
they  were  the  last  offerings  thrown  into  the  open  grave  of  their 
friendship,  he  proceeded  to  deprecate  the  effects  which  the  lan- 
guage of  his  Right  Honorable  Friend  might  have,  in  appearing  to 
countenance  the  disposition  observable  among  “ some  wicked  per- 
sons” to  “recommend  an  imitation  of  the  French  spirit  of  Re- 
form,” and  then  added  a declaration,  equally  remarkable  for  the 
insidious  charge  which  it  implied  against  his  own  party,  and  the 
notice  of  his  approaching  desertion  which  it  conveyed  to  the  other, 
— that  “ so  strongly  opposed  was  he  to  any  the  least  tendency 
towards  the  means  of  introducing  a democracy  like  that  of  the 
French,  as  well  as  to  the  end  itself,  that,  much  as  it  would  afflict 
him,  if  such  a thing  should  be  attempted,  and  that  any  friend  of 
his  could  concur  in  such  measures  (he  was  far,  very  far,  from  be- 
lieving they  could),  he  would  abandon  his  best  friends,  and  join 
with  his  worst  enemies  to  oppose  either  the  means  or  the  end.” 

It  is  pretty  evident,  from  these  words,  that  Burke  had  already 
made  up  his  mind  as  to  the  course  he  should  pursue,  and  but  de- 
layed his  declaration  of  a total  breach,  in  order  to  prepare  the 
minds  of  the  public  for  such  an  event,  and,  by  waiting  to  take 
advantage  of  some  moment  of  provocation,  make  the  intempe- 
rance of  others  responsible  for  his  own  deliberate  schism.  Tlie 
reply  of  Mr.  Fox  was  not  such  as  could  afford  this  opportunity  ; 
— it  was,  on  the  contrary,  full  of  candor  and  moderation,  and  re* 
pelled  the  implied  charge  of  being  a favorer  of  the  new  doctrines 
of  France  in  the  most  decided,  but,  at  the  same  time,  most  con- 
ciliatory terms. 

Did  suck  a declaration,^’  he  asked,  warrant  the  idea  that  he  was  a 
friend  to  Democracy  ? He  declared  himself  equally  the  enemy  of  all  ab- 
solute forms  of  government,  whether  an  absolute  Monarchy,  an  absolute 
Aristocracy,  or  an  absolute  Democracy.  He  was  adverse  to  all  extremes, 
and  a friend  only  to  a mixed  government  like  our  own,  in  which,  if  the 
Aris  ;ocracy,  or  indeed  either  of  the  three  brar^hes  of  the  Constitution  were 


EIGHT  HOH.  KICHAED  BEINSLEY  SHEEIDAN.  103 

destroyed,  the  good  effect  of  the  whole,  and  the  happiness  derived  under 
it  would,  in  his  mind,  be  at  an  end.’^ 

In  returning,  too,  the  praises  bestowed  upon  him  by  his  friend, 
he  made  the  following  memorable  and  noble  acknowledgment  of 
all  that  he  himself  had  gained  by  their  intercourse  : — 

Such  (he  said)  was  his  sense  of  the  judgment  of  his  Right  Honorable 
Friend,  such  his  knowledge  of  his  principles,  such  the  value  which  he  set 
upon  them,  and  such  the  estimation  in  which  he  held  his  friendship,  that  if 
he  were  to  put  all  the  political  information  which  he  had  learned  from  books 
all  which  he  had  gained  from  science,  and  all  which  any  knowledge  of  the 
world  and  its  affairs  had  taught  him,  into  one  scale,  and  the  improvement 
which  he  had  derived  from  his  Right  Honorable  Friend’s  instruction  and 
conversation  were  placed  in  the  other,  he  should  be  at  a loss  to  decide  to 
which  to  give  the  preference.” 

This,  from  a person  so  rich  in  acquirements  as  Mr.  Fox,  was 
the  very  highest  praise, — nor,  except  in  what  related  to  the  judg- 
ment and  principles  of  his  friend,  was  it  at  all  exaggerated.  The 
conversation  of  Burke  must  have  been  like  the  procession  of  a 
Roman  triumph,  exhibiting  power  and  riches  at  every  step — oc- 
casionally, perhaps,  mingling  the  low  Fescenniiie  jest  with  the 
lofty  music  of  its  march,  but  glittering  all  over  with  the  spoils  of 
the  whole  ransacked  world. 

Mr.  Burke,  in  reply,  after  reiterating  his  praises  of  Mr.  Fox, 
and  the  full  confidence  which  he  felt  in  his  moderation  and  saga- 
city, professed  himself  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  explanations 
that  had  been  given.  The  conversation  would  thus  have  passed 
off  without  any  explosion,  had  not  Sheridan,  who  was  well  aware 
that  against  him,  in  particular,  the  charge  of  a tendency  to  the 
adoption  of  French  principles  was  directed,  risen  immediately 
after,  and  by  a speech  warmly  in  favor  of  the  Revolution  and  of 
the  National  Assembly,  at  once  lighted  the  train  in  the  mind  of 
Burke,  and  brought  the  question,  as  far  as  regarded  themselves, 
to  an  immediate  issue. 

He  differed,”  he  said,  decidedly,  from  his  Right  Honorable  Friend 
in  almost  every  word  that  he  had  uttered  respecting  the  French  Revolii 


i04 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


tion.  He  conceived  it  to  be  as  just  a Revolution  as  ours,  proceeding  upoL 
as  sound  a principle  and  as  just  a provocation.  He  vehemently  defended 
the  general  views  and  conduct  of  the  National  Assembly.  He  could  not 
even  understand  what  was  meant  by  the  charges  against  them  of  having 
overturned  the  laws,  the  justice,  and  the  revenues  of  their  country.  What 
were  their  laws  ? the  arbitrary  mandates  of  capricious  despotism.  What 
their  justice  ? the  partial  adjudications  of  venal  magistrates.  What  their 
revenues  ? national  bankruptcy.  This  he  thought  the  fundamental  error 
of  his  Right  Honorable  Friend’s  argument,  that  he  accused  the  National 
Assembly  of  creating  the  evils,  which  they  had  found  existing  in  full  de- 
formity at  the  first  hour  of  their  meeting.  The  public  creditor  had  been 
defrauded  ; the  manufacturer  was  without  employ  ; trade  was  languishing ; 
famine  clung  upon  the  poor  ; despair  on  all.  In  this  situation,  the  wisdom 
and  feelings  of  the  nation  were  appealed  to  by  the  government ; and  was  it 
to  be  wondered  at  by  Englishmen,  that  a people,  so  circumstanced,  should 
search  for  the  cause  and  source  of  all  their  calamities,  or  that  they  should 
find  them  in  the  arbitrary  constitution  of  their  government,  and  in  the  pro- 
digal and  corrupt  administration  of  their  revenues  ? For  such  an  evil 
when  proved,  what  remedy  could  be  resorted  to,  but  a radical  amendment 
of  the  frame  and  fabric  of  the  Constitution  itself?  This  change  was  not  the 
object  and  wish  of  the  ISj^tional  Assembly  only;  it  was  the  claim  and  cry  of 
all  France,  united  as  one  man  for  one  purpose.'^ 

All  this  is  just  and  unanswerable — as  indeed  was  the  greater 
part  of  the  sentiments  which  he  uttered.  But  he  seems  to  have 
failed,  even  more  signally  than  Mr.  Fox,  in  endeavoring  to  in- 
validate the  masterly  view  which  Burke  had  just  taken  of 
the  Revolution  of  1688,  as  compared,  in  its  means  and  object, 
wdth  that  of  France.  There  was,  in  truth,  but  little  similarity 
between  them, — the  task  of  the  former  being  to  preserve  liberty, 
tnat  of  the  latter  to  destroy  tyranny ; the  one  being  a regulated 
movement  of  the  Aristocracy  against  the  Throne  for  the  Nation, 
the  other  a tumultuous  rising  of  the  whole  Nation  against  both 
for  itself. 

The  reply  of  Mr.  Burke  was  conclusive  and  peremptory, — 
such,  in  short,  as  might  be  expected  from  a person  who  came 
prepared  to  take  the  first  plausible  opportunity  of  a rupture.  He 
declaied  that  “ henceforth,  his  Honorable  Friend  and  he  were 
separated  in  politics,” — complained  that  his  arguments  had  been 
cruelly  misrepresented,  and  that  “ the  Honorable  Gentleman  had 


EIGHT  HOIST.  RIGHAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN  105 


thought  proper  to  charge  him  with  being  the  advocate  of  des- 
potism.” Having  endeavored  to  defend  himself  from  such  an 
imputation,  he  concluded  by  saying, — 

Was  that  a fair  and  candid  mode  of  treating  his  arguments  ? or  was  it 
what  he  ought  to  have  expected  the  moment  of  departed  friendahip  ? On 
the  contrary,  was  it  not  evident  that  the  Honorable  Gentleman  had  made 
a sacrifice  of  his  friendship,  for  the  sake  of  catching  some  momentary  popu- 
larity ? If  the  fact  were  such,  even  greatly  as  he  should  continue  to  admire 
the  Honorable  Gentleman’s  talents,  he  must  tell  him  that  his  argument 
was  chiefly  an  argument  ad  invidiam^  and  all  the  applause  for  which  he 
could  hope  from  clubs  was  scarcely  worth  the  sacrifice  which  he  had  chosen 
to  make  for  so  insignificant  an  acquisition.” 

I have  given  the  circumstances  of  this  Debate  somewhat  in 
detail,  not  only  on  account  of  its  own  interest  and  of  the  share 
which  Mr.  Sheridan  took  in  it,  but  from  its  being  the  first  scene 
of  that  great  political  schism,  which  in  the  following  year  as- 
sumed a still  more  serious  aspect,  and  by  which  the  policy  of  Mr. 
Pitt  at  length  acquired  a predominance,  not  speedily  to  be  for- 
gotten in  the  annals  of  this  country. 

Mr.  Sheridan  was  much  blamed  for  the  unseasonable  stimulant 
which,  it  was  thought,  his  speech  on  this  occasion  had  adminis- 
tered to  the  temper  of  Burke ; nor  can  it  be  doubted  that  he  had 
thereby,  in  some  degree,  accelerated  the  public  burst  of  that 
feeling  which  had  so  long  been  treasured  up  against  himself 
But,  whether  hastened  or  delayed,  such  a breach  was  ultimately 
inevitable  ; the  divergence  of  the  parties  once  begun,  it  was  in 
vain  to  think  of  restoring  their  parallelism.  That  some  of  their 
friends,  however,  had  more  sanguine  hopes  appears  from  an  ef- 
fort which  was  made,  within  two  days  after  the  occurrence  of 
this  remarkable  scene,  to  effect  a reconciliation  between  Burke 
and  Sheridan,  The  interview  that  took  place  on  that  occasion  is 
thus  described  by  Mr.  Dennis  O’Brien,  one  of  the  persons  chiefly 
instrumental  in  the  arrangements  for  it : — 

“ It  appeared  to  the  author  of  this  pamphlet*  that  the  difference  between 
these  two  great  men  would  be  a great  evil  to  the  country  and  to  their 

* Entitled  “ Utrum  Horurn.” 


VOL  II. 


106 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


own  party.  Full  of  this  persuasion  he  brought  them  both  together  the 
second  night  after  the  original  contest  in  the  House  of  Commons  ; and  car- 
ried them  to  Burlington  House  to  Mr.  Fox  and  the  Duke  of  Portland,  ac- 
cording to  a previous  arrangement.  This  interview,  which  can  never  be 
forgotten  by  those  who  were  present,  lasted  from  ten  o’clock  at  night  until 
three  in  the  morning,  and  afforded  a very  remarkable  display  of  the  extra- 
ordinary talents  of  the  parties.” 

It  will  easily  be  believed  that  to  the  success  of  this  conciliatory 
effort  the  temper  on  one  side  would  be  a greater  obstacle  than 
even  the  hate  on  both.  Mr.  Sheridan,  as  if  anxious  to  repel  from 
himself  the  suspicion  of  having  contributed  to  its  failure,  took  an 
opportunity,  during  his  speech  upon  the  Tobacco  Act,  in  the 
month  of  April  following,  to  express  himself  in  the  most  friendly 
terms  of  Mr.  Burke,  as  “ one,  for  whose  talents  and  personal 
virtue  he  had  the  highest  esteem,  veneration,  and  regard,  and 
with  w^hom  he  might  be  allowed  to  differ  in  opinion  upon  the 
subject  of  France,  persuaded,  as  he  was,  that  they  never  could 
differ  in  principle.”  Of  this  and  some  other  compliments  of  a 
similar  nature,  Mr.  Burke  did  not  deign  to  take  the  slightest  no- 
tice— partly,  from  an  implacable  feeling  towards  him  who  offered 
them,  and  partly,  perhaps,  from  a suspicion  that  they  were  in 
tended  rather  for  the  ears  of  the  public  than  his  own,  and  that, 
while  this  tendency  to  conciliation  appeared  on  the  surface,  the 
under-current  of  feeling  and  influence  set  all  the  other  way. 

Among  the  measures  which  engaged  the  attention  of  Mr.  She- 
ridan during  this  session,  the  principal  was  a motion  of  his  own 
for  the  repeal  of  the  Excise  Duties  on  Tobacco,  which  appears  to 
have  called  forth  a more  than  usual  portion  of  his  oratory, — his 
speeches  on  the  subject  occupying  nearly  forty  pages.  It  is  upon 
topics  of  this  unpromising  kind,  and  from  the  very  effort,  perhaps, 
to  dignify  and  enliven  them,  that  the  peculiar  characteristics  of 
an  orator  are  sometimes  most  racily  brought  out.  To  the  Cider 
Tax  we  are  indebted  for  one  of  the  grandest  bursts  of  the  const! 
tutional  spirit  and  eloquence  of  Lord  Chatham  ; and,  in  these 
orations  of  Sheridan  upon  Tobacco,  we  find  examples  of  the  two 
extreme  varieties  of  his  dramatic  talent — both  of  the  broad, 
natural  humor  of  his  farce,  and  the  pointed,  artificial  wit  of  his 


EIGHT  HOH.  RICHAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  107 


comedy.  For  instance,  in  representing,  as  one  of  the  abuses  that 
might  arise  from  the  discretionary  power  of  remitting  fines  to 
manufacturers,  the  danger  that  those  only  should  feel  the  indul- 
gence, who  were  found  to  be  supporters  of  the  existing  adminis 
tration,*  he  says : — 

Were  a man,  whose  stock  had  increased  or  dimini'^hed  beyoud  the 
standard  table  in  the  Act,  to  attend  the  Commissioners  and  assure  them 
that  the  weather  alone  had  caused  the  increase  or  decrr ase  of  the  article, 
and  that  no  fraud  whatever  had  been  used  on  the  occasion,  the  Commis- 
sioners might  say  to  him,  ‘ Sir,  you  need  not  give  yourself  so  much  trouble 
to  prove  your  innocence  ; — we  see  honesty  in  your  orange  cape/’  But 
should  a person  of  quite  a different  side  in  politics  attend  for  the  same 
purpose,  the  Commissioners  might  say,  ‘ Sir,  you  are  not  to  be  believed  ; 
we  see  fraud  in  your  blue  and  buff,  and  it  \2  impossible  tb^t  you  should 
not  be  a smuggler.” 

Again,  in  stating  the  case  between  .:he  manufacturers  and  the 
Minister,  the  former  of  whom  objc  ;ted  to  the  Bill  altogether, 
while  the  latter  determined  to  pv  ;serve  its  p’^nciple  and  only 
alter  its  form,  he  says  : — 

“ The  manufacturers  ask  the  Rv^^t  Honorable  Gentleman,  if  he  will 
consent  to  give  up  the  principle  ? The  Right  Honorable  Gentleman  an- 
swers, ‘ No  ; the  principle  must  r//:  be  abandoned,  but  do  you  inform  me 
how  I shall  alter  the  Bill.’  TV/;  the  manufacturers  refused ; and  they 
wisely  refused  it  in  his  opinion  ; for,  what  was  it  but  the  Minister’s  saying, 
‘ I have  a yoke  to  put  abo»\t  y .vir  necks^ — do  you  help  me  in  fitting  it  on 
— only  assist  me  with  your  'roowledge  of  the  subject,  and  I’ll  fit  you  with 
the  prettiest  pair  of  fetterr  ^ r.at  ever  wern  seen  in  the  world.’  ” 

As  a specimen  of  me,  quaint  and  far-sought  witticisms,  the  fol- 
lowing passage  in  th?  same  vSpeech  may  vie  with  Trip’s  “ Post- 
Obit  on  the  blue  /od  silver,  <^ic.” — Having  described  the  effects 
of  the  weather  in  increasing  or  decreasing  the  weight  of  the  stock, 
beyond  the  exAct  standard  established  in  the  Act,  he  adds, 

‘‘  The  Con^plssioners,  before  they  could,  in  justice,  levy  such  fihes, 
ought  to  a^o^dain  that  the  weather  is  always  in  that  precise  state  of  heat 
or  cold  which  the  Act  supposed  it  would  be.  They  ought  to  make  Christ- 

* A f f.Bc  of  this  kind  formed  the  subject  of  a spirited  Speech  of  Mr.  Windham,  in  1793. 
See  h»»  %'peeches,  vol.  i.  p.  207. 


108 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


mas  give  security  for  frost,  take  a bond  for  hot  weather  from  August,  and 
oblige  damps  and  fogs  to  take  out  permits.’^ 

It  was  in  one  of  these  speeches  on  the  Tobacco  Act,  that  he 
adverted  with  considerable  warmth  to  a rumor,  which,  he  com- 
plained, had  been  maliciously  circulated,  of  a misunderstanding 
between  himself  and  the  Duke  of  Portland,  in  consequence  (as 
the  Report  expresses  it)  of  ‘‘  a certain  opposition  affirmed  to  have 
been  made  by  this  Noble  Duke,  to  some  views  or  expectations 
which  he  (Mr.  Sheridan)  was  said  to  have  entertained.”  i_fter 
declaring  that  “ there  was  not  in  these  rumors  one  grain  of  truth,”  • 
he  added  that— 

“ He  would  not  venture  to  state  to  the  Committee  the  opinion  that  the 
Noble  Duke  was  pleased  to  entertain  of  him,  lest  he  should  be  accused  of 
vanity  in  publishing  what  he  might  deem  highly  flattering.  All  that  he 
would  assert  on  this  occasion  was,  that  if  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  make 
the  man  whose  good  opinion  he  should  most  highly  prize  think  flatteringly 
of  him,  he  would  have  that  man  think  of  him  precisely  as  the  Noble  Duke 
did,  and  then  his  wish  on  that  subject  would  be  most  amply  gratified.” 

As  it  is  certain,  that  the  feelings  which  Burke  entertained  to- 
wards Sheridan  were  now  in  some  degree  shared  by  all  those  who 
afterwards  seceded  from  the  party,  this  boast  of  the  high  opinion 
of  the  Duke  of  Portland  must  be  taken  with  what,  in  Heraldry, 
is  called  Abatement — that  is,  a certain  degree  of  diminution  of 
the  emblazonry. 

Among  the  papers  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  I find  a letter  addressed 
to  him  this  year  by  one  of  his  most  distinguished  friends,  relative 
to  the  motions  that  had  lately  been  brought  forward  for  the  re- 
lief of  the  Dissenters.  The  writer,  whose  alarm  for  the  interest 
of  the  Church  had  somewhat  disturbed  his  sense  of  liberality  and 
justice,  endeavors  to  impress  upon  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  through 
him  upon  Mr.  Fox,  how  undeserving  the  Dissenters  were,  as  a 
political  body,  of  the  recent  exertions  on  their  behalf,  and  how 
ungratefully  they  had  more  than  once  requited  the  services  which 
the  Whigs  had  rendered  them.  For  this  latter  charge  there  was 
but  too  much  foundation  in  truth,  however  ungenerous  might  be 
the  deduction  which  the  writer  would  draw  from  it.  It  is,  no 


BIGHT  HON.  RICHAKD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  109 

doubt,  natural  that  large  bodies  of  men,  impatiently  suffering 
under  the  ban  of  disqualification,  should  avail  themselves,  with- 
out much  regard  to  persons  or  party,  of  every  aid  they  can  muster 
for  their  cause,  and  should  (to  use  the  words  of  an  old  Earl  of 
Pembroke)  “ lean  on  both  sides  of  the  stairs  to  get  up.”  But, 
it  is  equally  natural  that  the  occasional  desertion  and  ingratitude, 
of  which,  in  pursuit  of  this  selfish  policy,  they  are  but  too  likely 
to  be  guilty  towards  their  best  friends,  should,  if  not  wholly  in 
dispose  the  latter  to  their  service,  at  least  considerably  moderate 
their  zeal  in  a cause,  where  all  parties  alike  seem  to  be  considered 
but  as  instruments,  and  where  neither  personal  predilections  nor 
principle  are  regarded  in  the  choice  of  means.  To  the  great 
credit,  however,  of  the  Whig  party,  it  must  be  said,  that,  though 
often  set  aside  and  even  disowned  by  their  clients,  they  have 
rarely  suffered  their  high  duty,  as  advocates,  to  be  relaxed  or 
interrupted  by  such  momentary  suspensions  of  confidence.  In 
this  respect,  the  cause  of  Ireland  has  more  than  once  been  a trial 
of  their  constancy.  Even  Lord  North  was  able,  by  his  reluctan^ 
concessions,  to  supersede  them  for  a time  in  the  favor  of  my  too 
believing  countrymen, — whose  despair  of  finding  justice  at  any 
hands  has  often  led  them  thus  to  cany  their  confidence  to  market, 
and  to  place  it  in  the  hands  of  the  first  plausible  bidder.  The 
many  vicissitudes  of  popularity  which  their  own  illustrious  Whig, 
Grattan,  had  to  encounter,  would  have  wearied  out  the  ardor  of 
any  less  magnanimous  champion.  But  high  minds  are  as  little 
affected  by  such  unworthy  returns  for  services,  as  the  sun  is  by 
those  fogs  which  the  earth  throws  up  between  herself  and  his 
light. 

With  respect  to  the  Dissenters,  they  had  deserted  Mr.  Fox  in 
his  great  struggle  with  the  Crown  in  1784,  and  laid  their  inter- 
est and  hopes  at  the  feet  of  the  new  idol  of  the  day.  Notwith- 
standing this,  we  find  him,  in  the  year  1787,  warmly  maintaining, 
and  in  opposition  to  his  rival,  the  cause  of  the  very  persons  who 
had  contributed  to  make  that  rival  triumphant, — and  showing 
just  so  much  remembrance  of  their  late  defection  as  served  to 
render  this  sacrifice  of  personal  to  public  feelings  more  signal. 


no 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


“ He  was  determined,”  he  said,  “ to  let  them  know  that,  though 
they  could  upon  some  occasions  lose  sight  of  their  principles  of 
liberty,  he  would  not  upon  any  occasion  lose  sight  of  his  prin- 
ciples of  toleration.”  In  the  present  session,  too,  notwithstand- 
ing that  the  great  organ  of  the  Dissenters,  Dr.  Price,  had  lately 
in  a sermon,  publishe-d  with  a view  to  the  Test,  made  a pointed 
attack  on  the  morals  of  Mr.  Fox  and  his  friends,  this  generous 
advocate  of  religious  liberty  not  the  less  promptly  acceded  to 
the  request  of  the  body,  that  he  would  himself  bring  the  motion 
for  their  relief  before  the  House. 

On  the  12th  of  June  the  Parliament  was  dissolved, — and  Mr. 
Sheridan  again  succeeded  in  being  elected  for  Stafford.  The  fol- 
lowing letters,  however,  addressed  to  him  by  Mrs.  Sheridan  dur- 
ing the  election,  will  prove  that  they  were  not  without  some 
apprehensions  of  a different  result.  The  letters  are  still  more 
interesting,  as.  showing  how  warmly  alive  to  each  other’s  feelings 
the  hearts  of  both  husband  wife  could  remain,  after  the  long  lapse 
of  near  twenty  years,  and  after  trials  more  fatal  to  love  than  even 
time  itself. 

“ This  letter  will  find  you,  my  dear  .Dick,  I hope,  encircled  with  honors 
at  Stafford.  I take  it  for  granted  you  entered  it  triumphantly  on  Sunday, 
— hut  I am  very  impatient  to  hear  the  particulars,  and  of  the  utter  discom- 
fiture of  S — and  his  followers.  I received  your  note  fi’om  Birmingham  this 
morning,  and  am  happy  to  find  that  you  and  my  dear  cub  were  well,  so  far 
on  your  journey.  You  could  not  be  happier  than  I should  be  in  the  pro- 
posed alteration  for  Tom,  but  we  will  talk  more  of  this  when  we  meet.  I 
sent  you  Cartwright  yesterday,  and  to-day  I pack  you  off  Perry  with  the 
soldiers.  I was  obliged  to  give  them  four  guineas  for  their  expenses.  I 
send  you,  likewise,  by  Perry,  the  note  from  Mrs.  Crewe,  to  enable  you  to  speak 
of  your  qualification  if  you  should  be  called  upon.  So  I think  I have  exe- 
cuted all  your  commissions.  Sir  ; and  if  you  want  any  of  these  doubtful 
votes  which  I mentioned  to  you,  you  will  have  time  enough  to  send  for 
them,  for  I would  not  let  them  go  till  I hear  they  can  be  of  any  use. 

And,  now  for  my  journal.  Sir,  which  I suppose  you  expect.  Saturday, 
I was  at  home  all  day  busy  for  you, — kept  Mrs.  Rei4  to  dinner, — went  to 
the  Opera,— afterwards  to  Mrs.  St.  John^s,  where  I lost  my  money  sadly. 
Sir, — eat  straw^borries  and  cream  for  supper, — sat  between  Lord  Salisbury 
and  Mr.  Meynell,  (hope  you  approve  of  that.  Sir,) — overheard  Lord  Salis- 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  Ill 


bury  advise  Miss  Boyle  by  no  means  to  subscribe  to  Taylor^s  Opera,  as 
O’Reilly’s  would  certainly  have  the  patent, — confess  I did  not  come  home 
till  past  two.  Sunday,  called  on  Lady  Julia, — father  and  Mr.  Reid  to  din- 
ner,— in  the  evening  at  Lady  Hampden’s, — lost  my  money  again.  Sir,  and 
came  home  by  one  o’clock.  ’Tis  now  near  one  o’clock, — my  father  is  estab- 
lished in  my  boudoir,  and,  when  I have  finished  this,  I am  going  with  him 
to  hear  Abbe  Vogler  play  on  the  Stafford  organ.  I have  promised  to  dine 
with  Mrs.  Crewe,  who  is  to  have  a female  party  only, — no  objection  to  that, 
I suppose.  Sir?  Whatever  the  party  do,  I shall  do  of  course, — I suppose 
it  will  end  in  Mrs.  Hobart’s.  Mr.  James  told  me  on  Saturday,  and  I find  it 
is  the  report  of  the  day,  that  Bond  Hopkins  has  gone  to  Stafford.  I am 
sorry  to  tell  you  there  is  an  opposition  at  York, — Mr.  Montague  opposes 
Sir  William  Milner.  Mr.  Beckford  has  given  up  at  Dover,  and  Lord  * * is 
so  provoked  at  it,  that  he  has  given  up  too,  though  they  say  they  were  both 
sure.  St.  Ives  is  gone  for  want  of  a candidate.  Mr.  Barham  is  beat  at 
Stockbridge.  Charles  Lenox  has  offered  for  Surry,  and  they  say  Lord 
Egremont  might  drive  him  to  the  deuce,  if  he  would  set  any  body  up 
against  him.  You  know,  I suppose,  Mr.  Crewe  has  likewise  an  opponent. 
I am  sorry  to  tell  you  all  this  bad  news,  and,  to  complete  it,  Mr.  Adam  is 
sick  in  bed.  and  there  is  nobody  to  do  any  good  left  in  town. 

“ I am  more  than  ever  convinced  we  must  look  to  other  resources  for 
wealth  and  independence,  and  consider  politics  merely  as  an  amusement, 
— and  in  that  light  ’tis  best  to  be  in  Opposition,  which  I am  afraid  we  are 
likely  to  be  for  some  years  again. 

‘‘  I see  the  rumors  of  war  still  continue — Stocks  continue  to  fall — is  that 
good  or  bad  for  the  Ministers?  The  little  boys  are  come  home  to  me  to- 
day. I could  not  help  showing  in  my  answer  to  Mr.  T.’s  letter,  that  I was 
hurt  at  his  conduct, — so  I have  got  another  flummery  letter,  and  the  boys, 
who  (as  he  is  pretty  sure)  will  be  the  best  peace-makers.  God  bless  you, 
my  dear  Dick.  I am  very  well,  I assure  you  ; pray  don’t  neglect  to  write 
to  your  ever  affectionate 

« E.  S.” 

“My  Dearest  Dick,  Wednesday, 

“ I am  full  of  anxiety  and  fright  about  you, — I cannot  but  think  your  let- 
ters are  very  alarming.  Deuce  take  the  Corporation ! is  it  impossible  to 
make  them  resign  their  pretensions,  and  make  peace  with  the  Burgesses  ? 
I have  sent  Thomas  after  Mr.  Cocker.  I suppose  you  have  sent  for  the 
out-votes  ; but,  if  they  are  not  good,  what  a terrible  expense  will  that  be  ! 
— however,  they  are  ready.  I saw  Mr.  Cocker  yesterday, — he  collected 
them  together  last  night,  and  gave  them  a treat, — so  they  are  in  high  good 
humor.  I inclose  you  a letter  which  B.  left  here  last  night, — I could  not 
resist  opening  it.  Every  thing  seems  going  wrong,  I think.  I thought  he 


112 


MEMOiBS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

was  not  to  do  anything  in  your  absence. — It  strikes  me  the  bad  business  he 
mentions  was  entirely  owing  to  his  own  stupidity,  and  want  of  a little  pa- 
tience,— is  it  of  much  consequence  ? I don’t  hear  that  the  report  is  true  of 
Basilico’s  arrival ; — a messenger  came  to  the  Spanish  embassy,  which  gave 
rise  to  this  tale,  I believe. 

If  you  were  not  so  worried,  I should  scold  you  for  the  conclusion  of 
your  letter  of  to-day.  Might  not  I as  well  accuse  you  of  coldness,  for  not 
filing  your  letter  with  professions,  at  a time  when  your  head  must  be  full 
of  business  ? I think  of  nothing  all  day  long,  but  how  to  do  good,  some 
how  or  other,  for  you.  I have  given  you  a regular  Journal  of  my  time, 
and  all  to  please  you, — so  don’t,  dear  Dick,  lay  so  much  stress  on  words.  I 
should  use  them  oftener,  perhaps,  but  I feel  as  if  it  would  look  like  deceit. 
You  know  me  well  enough,  to  be  sure  that  I can  never  do  what  I’m  bid, 
Sir, — but,  pray,  don’t  think  I meant  to  send  you  a cold  letter,  for  indeed 
nothing  was  ever  farther  from  my  heart. 

You  will  see  Mr.  Horne  Tooke’s  advertisement  to-day  in  the  papers ; 
— what  do  you  think  of  that  to  complete  the  thing?  Bishop  Dixon  has  just 
called  from  the  hustings : — ^he  says  the  late  Recorder,  Adair,  proposed 
Charles  with  a good  speech,  and  great  applause, — Captain  Berkeley,  Lord 
Hood,  with  a bad  speech,  not  much  applauded  ; and  then  Horne  Tooke 
came  forward,  and,  in  the  most  impudent  speech  that  ever  was  heard,  pro- 
posed himself, — abused  both  the  candidates,  and  said  he  should  have  been 
ashamed  to  have  sat  and  heard  such  ill-deserved  praises  given  him.  But 
he  told  the  crowd  that,  since  so  many  of  these  fine  virtues  and  qualifica- 
tions had  never  yet  done  them  the  least  good,  they  might  as  well  now 
choose  a candidate  without  them.  He  said,  however,  that  if  they  were 
sincere  in  their  professions  of  standing  alone,  he  was  sure  of  coming  in, 
for  they  must  all  give  him  their  second  votes.  There  was  an  amazing  deal 
of  laughing  and  noise  in  the  course  of  his  speech.  Charles  Fox  attempted 
to  answer  him,  and  so  did  Lord  Hood, — but  they  would  hear  neither,  and 
they  are  now  polling  away. 

Do,  my  dearest  love,  if  you  have  possibly  time,  write  me  a few  more 
particulars,  for  your  letters  are  very  unsatisfactory,  and  I am  full  of  anx- 
iety. Make  Richardson  write, — what  has  he  better  to  do  ? God  bless  thee, 
my  dear,  dear  Dick, — would  it  were  over  and  all  well ! I am  afraid,  at  any 
rate,  it  will  be  ruinous  work. 

“ Ever  your  true  and  affectionate 

E.  S, 

Near  five.  I am  just  come  from  the  hustings  ; — the  state  of  the  poll 
when  I left  it  was,  Fox,  260  ; Hood,  75  ; Horne  Tooke,  17  ! But  he  still 
persists  in  his  determination  of  polling  a man  an  hour  for  the  whole  time 
I saw  Mr.  Wilkes  go  up  to  vote  for  Tooke  and  Hood,  amidst  the  hisses  and 
groans  of  a multitude.” 


UiGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  113 


“ Friday, 

My  poor  Dick,  how  you  are  worried  ! This  is  the  day, — you  will  easily 
guess  how  anxious  I shall  be  ; but  you  seem  pretty  sanguine  yourself, 
which  is  my  only  comfort,  for  Richardson’s  letter  is  rather  croaking.  You 
have  never  said  a word  of  little  Monkton  has  he  any  chance,  or  none  ? 
I ask  questions  without  considering  that,  before  you  receive  this,  every 
thing  will  be  decided — I hope  triumphantly  for  you.  What  a sad  set  of 
venal  rascals  your  favorites  the  Blacks  must  be,  to  turn  so  suddenly  from 
their  professions  and  promises  ! I am  half  sorry  you  have  any  thing  more 
to  do  with  them,  and  more  than  ever  regret  you  did  not  stand  for  West- 
minster with  Charles,  instead  of  Lord  John  ; — in  that  case  you  would  have 
come  in  now,  and  we  should  not  have  been  persecuted  by  this  Horne  Tooke. 
However,  it  is  the  dullest  contested  election  that  ever  was  seen — no  can- 
vassing, no  houses  open,  no  cockades.  But  T heard  that  a report  prevails 
now,  that  Horne  Tooke  polling  so  few  the  two  or  three  first  days  is  an  art- 
ful trick  to  put  the  others  off  their  guard,  and  that  he  means  to  pour  in  his 
votes  on  the  last  days,  when  it  will  be  too  late  for  them  to  repair  their 
neglect.  But  I don’t  think  it  possible,  either,  for  such  a fellow  to  beat 
Charles  in  Westminster. 

‘‘  I have  just  had  a note  from  Reid — he  is  at  Canterbury  : — the  state  of 
the  poll  there,  Thursday  night,  was  as  follows : — Gipps,  220  ; Lord  * *, 
211  ; Sir  T.  Honeywood,  216  ; Mr.  Warton,  163.  We  have  got  two  mem- 
bers for  Wendover,  and  two  at  Ailsbury.  Mr.  Barham  is  beat  at  Stock- 
bridge.  Mr.  Tierney  says  he  shall  be  beat,  owing  to  Bate  Dudley’s  man- 
oeuvres, and  the  Dissenters  having  all  forsaken  him, — a set  of  ungrateful 
wretches.  E.  Fawkener  has  just  sent  me  a state  of  the  poll  at  Northamp- 
ton, as  it  stood  yesterday,  when  they  adjourned  to  dinner  : — Lord  Comp- 
ton, 160  ; Bouverie,  98  ; Colonel  Manners,  72.  They  are  in  hopes  Mr. 
Manners  will  give  up,  this  is  all  my  news.  Sir. 

‘‘  We  had  a very  pleasant  musical  party  last  night  at  Lord  Erskine’s, 
where  I supped.  I am  asked  to  dine  to-day  with  Lady  Palmerston,  at 
Sheen  ; but  I can’t  go,  unless  Mrs.  Crewe  will  carry  me,  as  the  coach  is  gone 
to  have  its  new  lining.  I have  sent  to  ask  her,  for  ’tis  a fine  day,  and  I 
should  like  it  very  well.  God  thee  bless,  my  dear  Dick. 

Yours  ever,  true  and  affectionate, 

E.  S. 

“ Duke  of  Portland  has  just  left  me  : — he  is  full  of  anxiety  about  you : — 
this  is  the  second  time  he  has  called  to  inquire.” 

Having  secured  his  own  election,  Mr.  Sheridan  now  hastened 
to  lend  his  aid,  where  such  a lively  reinforcement  was  much  want- 
ed, on  the  hustings  at  V/estminster.  The  contest  here  was  pro- 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF 


114 

tract ed  to  the  2d  of  July  ; and  it  required  no  little  exercise  both 
of  wit  and  temper  to  encounter  the  cool  personalities  of  Tooke, 
who  had  not  forgotten  the  severe  remarks  of  Sheridan  upon  his 
pamphlet  the  preceding  year,  and  who,  in  addition  to  his  strong 
powers  of  sarcasm,  had  all  those  advantages  which,  in  such  a con- 
test, contempt  for  the  courtesies  and  compromises  of  party  war- 
flire  gives.  Among  other  sallies  of  his  splenetic  humor  it  is  re- 
lated, that  Mr.  Fox  having,  upon  one  occasion,  retired  from  the 
hustings,  and  left  to  Sheridan  the  task  of  addressing  the  multi- 
tude, Tooke  remarked,  that  such  was  always  the  practice  of  quack- 
doctors,  who,  whenever  they  quit  the  stage  themselves,  make  it 
a rule  to  leave  their  merry-andrews  behind."^ 

The  French  Revolution  still  continued,  by  its  comet-like  course, 
to  dazzle,  alarm,  and  disturb  all  Europe.  Mr.  Burke  had  pub- 
lished his  celebrated  ‘‘  Reflections”  in  the  month  of  November, 
1790 ; and  never  did  any  work,  with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of 
the  Eikon  Basilike,  produce  such  a rapid,  deep,  and  general  sen- 
sation. The  Eikon  was  the  book  of  a King,  and  this  might,  in 
^ another  sense,  be  called  the  Book  of  Kings.  Not  only  in  Eng- 
land, but  throughout  all  Europe, — in  every  part  of  which  mon- 
archy was  now  trembling  for  its  existence, — this  lofty  appeal  to 
loyalty  was  heard  and  'welcomed.  Its  effect  upon  the  already 
tottering  Whig  party  was  like  that  of  “ the  Voice,”  in  the  ruins 
of  Rome,  “ disparting  tow^ers.”  The  whole  fabric  of  the  old  Rock- 
ingham confederacy  shook  to  its  base.  Even  some,  who  after- 
wards recovered  their  equilibrium,  at  first  yielded  to  the  eloquence 
of  this  extraordinary  book, — which,  like  the  sera  of  chivalry, 
whose  loss  it  deplores,  mixes  a grandeur  with  error,  and  throw’s 
a charm  round  political  superstition,  that  will  long  render  its  pages 
a sort  of  region  of  Royal  romance,  to  which  fancy  will  have  re-  ♦ 
course  for  illusions  that  have  lost  their  last  hold  on  reason. 

Tne  undisguised  freedom  with  which  Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan expressed  every  wEere  their  opinions  of  this  wmrk  and  its 

* Tooke,  it  is  said,  upon  coming’  one  Monday  morning  to  the  hustings,  was  thus  ad- 
dressed by  a partisan  of  his  opponent,  not  of  a very  reputable  character  : — “Well,  Mr. 
Tooke,  you  will  have  all  the  blackguaras  with  you  to-day.”— “ I am  delighted  to  hear  it, 
Sir,”  (said  Tooke,  bowing,)  “ and  from  such  good  authority.” 


lUGHT  HOK.  RICHARD  BRIKSLEY  SHERIDAN.  115 


principles  had,  of  course,  no  small  influence  on  the  temper  of  the 
author,  and,  while  it  confirmed  him  in  his  hatred  and  jealousy  of 
the  one,  prepared  him  for  the  breach  which  he  meditated  with  the 
other.  This  breach  was  now,  indeed,  daily  expected,  as  a natu- 
ral sequel  to  the  rupture  with  Mr.  Sheridan  in  the  last  session  ; 
but,  by  various  accidents  and  interpositions,  the  crisis  was  delayed 
till  the  6th  of  May,  when  the  recommitment  of  the  Quebec  Bill, 
— a question  upon  which  both  orators  had  already  taken  occasion 
to  unfold  their  views  of  the  French  Revolution, — furnished  Burke 
with  an  opportunity,  of  which  he  impetuously  took  advantage,  to 
sever  the  tie  between  himself  and  Mr.  Fox  forever. 

This  scene,  so  singular  in  a public  assembly,  where  the  natu- 
ral affections  are  but  seldom  called  out,  and  where,  though  bursts 
of  temper  like  that  of  Burke  are  common,  such  tears  as  those  shed 
by  Mr.  Fox  are  rare  phenomena, — has  been  so  often  described 
in  various  publications,  that  it  would  be  superfluous  to  enter  into 
the  details  of  it  here.  The  following  are  the  solemn  and  stern 
words  in  which  sentence  of  death  was  pronounced  upon  a friend- 
ship, that  had  now  lasted  for  more  than  the  fourth  part  of  a cen- 
tury. It  certainly,”  said  Mr.  Burke,  “ was  indiscretion  at  any 
period,  but  especially  at  his  time  of  life,  to  provoke  enemies,  or 
to  give  his  friends  occasion  to  desert  him  ; yet,  if  his  firm  and 
steady  adherence  to  the  British  Constitution  placed  him  in  such 
a dilemma,  he  would  risk  all,  and,  as  public  duty  and  public  pru- 
dence taught  him,  with  his  last  words  exclaim,  ‘ Fly  from  the 
French  Constitution.’ ” [Mr.  Fox  here  whispered,  that  “there 
was  no  loss  of  friendship.”]  Mr.  Burke  said,  “ Yes,  there  was  a 
loss  of  friendship  ; — he  knew  the  price  of  his  conduct ; — he  had 
done  his  duty  at  the  price  of  his  friend  ; their  friendship  was  at 
an  end.” 

In  rising  to  reply  to  the  speech  of  Burke,  Mr.  Fox  was  so  afl 
fected  as  to  be  for  some  moments  unable  to  speak  : — he  wept,  it 
is  said,  even  to  sobbing ; and  persons  who  were  in  the  gallery  at 
tne  time  declare,  that,  while  he  spoke,  there  was  hardly  a dry  eye 
around  them. 

Had  it  been  possible  for  two  natures  so  incapable  of  disguise 


116  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

— the  one  from  simplicity  and  frankness,  the  other  from  ungov- 
ernable temper, — to  have  continued  in  relations  of  amity,  not- 
withstanding their  disagreement  upon  a question  which  was  at 
that  moment  setting  the  world  in  arms,  both  themselves  and  the 
country  would  have  been  the  better  for  such  a compromise  be- 
tween them.  Their  long  habits  of  mutual  deference  would  have 
mingled  with  and  moderated  the  discussion  of  their  present  dif- 
ferences ; — the  tendency  to  one  common  centre  to  which  their 
minds  had  been  accustomed,  would  have  prevented  them  from 
flying  so  very  widely  asunder ; and  both  might  have  been  thus 
saved  from  those  extremes  of  principle,  which  Mr.  Burke  always, 
and  Mr.  Fox  sometimes,  had  recourse  to  in  defending  their  re- 
spective opinions,  and  which,  by  lighting,  as  it  were,  the  torch  at 
both  ends,  but  hastened  a conflagration  in  which  Liberty  herself 
might  have  been  the  sufferer.  But  it  was  evident  that  such  a 
compromise  would  have  been  wholly  impossible.  Even  granting 
that  Mr.  Burke  did  not  welcome  the  schism  as  a relief,  neither 
the  temper  of  the  men  nor  the  spirit  of  the  times,  which  con- 
verted opinions  at  once  into  passions,  would  have  admitted  of 
such  a peaceable  counterbalance  of  principles,  nor  suffered  them 
long  to  slumber  in  that  hollow  truce,  which  Tacitus  has  described, 
— “ manente  in  speciem  amicitiaP  Mr.  Sheridan  saw  this  from 
the  first ; and,  in  hazarding  that  vehement  speech,  by  which  he 
provoked  the  rupture  between  himself  and  Burke,  neither  his 
judgment  nor  his  temper  were  so  much  off*  their  guard  as  they 
who  blamed  that  speech  seemed  inclined  to  infer.  But,  perceiv- 
ing that  a separation  was  in  the  end  inevitable,  he  thought  it  safer, 
perhaps,  as  well  as  manlier,  to  encounter  the  extremity  at  once, 
than  by  any  temporizing  delay,  or  too  complaisant  suppression  of 
opinion,  to  involve  both  himself  and  Mr.  Fox  in  the  suspicion  of 
either  sharing  or  countenancing  that  spirit  of  defection,  which,  he 
saw,  was  fast  spreading  among  the  rest  of  their  associates. 

It  is  indeed  said,  and  with  every  appearance  of  truth,  that  Mr. 
Sheridan  had  felt  offended  by  the  censures  which  some  of  his  po 
litical  friends  had  pronounced  upon  the  indiscretion  (as  it  was 
called)  of  his  speech  in  the  last  year,  and  that,  having,  in  con- 


EIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  117 


sequence,  withdrawn  from  them  the  aid  of  his  powerful  talents 
during  a great  part  of  the  present  session,  he  but  returned  to  his 
post  under  the  express  condition,  that  he  should  be  allowed  to 
take  the  earliest  opportunity  of  repeating,  fully  and  explicitly, 
the  same  avowal  of  his  sentiments. 

The  following  letter  from  Dr.  Parr  to  Mrs.  Sheridan,  written 
immediately  after  the  scene  between  Burke  and  Sheridan  in  tbe 
preceding  year,  is  curious : — 

“ Dear  Madam, 

1 am  most  fixedly  and  most  indignantly  on  the  side  of  Mr.  Sheridan 
and  Mr.  Fox  against  Mr.  Burke.  It  is  not  merely  French  politics  that  pro- 
duced this  dispute  ; — they  might  have  been  settled  privately.  No,  no, — 
there  is  jealousy  lurking  underneath  ; — jealousy  of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  elo- 
quence ; — jealousy  of  his  popularity  ; — jealousy  of  his  influence  with  Mr. 
Fox  ; — ^jealousy,  perhaps,  of  his  connection  with  the  Prince. 

“ Mr.  Sheridan  was,  I think,  not  too  warm  ; or,  at  least,  I should  have 
myself  been  warmer.  Why,  Burke  accused  Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Sheridan  of 
acts  leading  to  rebellion, — and  he  made  Mr.  Fox  a dupe,  and  Mr.  Sheridan 
a traitor ! I think  this, — and  I am  sure,  yes,  positively  sure,  that  nothing 
else  will  allay  the  ferment  of  men’s  minds.  Mr.  Sheridan  ought,  publicly 
in  Parliament,  to  demand  proof,  or  a retractation,  of  this  horrible  charge. 
Pitt’s  words  never  did  the  party  half  the  hurt ; — and,  just  on  the  eve  of  an 
election,  it  is  worse.  As  to  private  bickerings,  or  private  concessions  and 
reconciliations,  they  are  all  nothing.  In  public  all  must  be  again  taken 
up  ; for,  if  drowned,  the  Public  will  say,  and  Pitt  will  insinuate,  that  the 
charge  is  well  founded,  and  that  they  dare  not  provoke  an  inquiry. 

“ I know  Burke  is  not  addicted  to  giving  up, — and  so  much  the  worse 
for  him  and  his  party.  As  to  Mr.  Fox’s  yielding,  well  had  it  been  for  all, 
all,  all  the  party,  if  Mr.  Fox  had,  now  and  then,  stood  out  against  Mr. 
Burke.  The  ferment  and  alarm  are  universal,  and  something  must  be 
done ; for  it  is  a conflagration  in  which  they  must  perish,  unless  it  be 
stopped.  All  the  papers  are  with  Burke, — even  the  Foxite  papers,  which 
I have  seen.  I know  his  violence,  and  temper,  and  obstinacy  of  opinion, 
and — but  I will  not  speak  out,  for,  though  I think  him  the  greatest  man 
upon  the  earth,  yet,  in  politics  I think  him, — what  he  has  been  found,  to 
the  sorrow  of  those  who  act  with  him.  He  is  uncorrupt,  T know  ; but  his 
passions  are  quite  headstrong  ;*  and  age,  and  disappointment,  and  the  sight 
of  other  men  rising  into  fame  and  consequence,  sour  him.  Pray  tell  me 

* It  was  well  said,  (I  believe,  by  Mr.  Fox,)  that  it  was  lucky  both  for  Burke  and  Wind- 
ham that  they  took  the  Koyal  side  on  the  subject  of  the  French  Revolution,  as  they  would 
liavc  got  hanged  on  the  other, 


118 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


when  they  are  reconciled, — though,  as  I said,  it  is  nothing  to  the  purpose 
without  a public  explanation. 

I am,  dear  Madam, 

‘‘  Yours  truly, 

S.  Parr.” 

Another  letter,  communicated  to  me  as  having  been  written 
about  this  period  to  Sheridan  by  a Gentleman,  then  abroad,  who 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  whole  party,  contains  allusions  to 
the  breach,  which  make  its  introduction  here  not  irrelevant : — 

“ I wish  very  much  to  have  some  account  of  the  state  of  things  with  you 
that  I can  rely  on.  I wish  to  know  how  all  my  old  companions  and  fellow- 
laborers  do  ; if  the  club  yet  exists  ; if  you,  and  Richardson,  and  Lord  John, 
and  Ellis,  and  Lawrence,  and  Fitzpatrick,  &c.,  meet,  and  joke,  and  write, 
as  of  old.  What  is  become  of  Becket’s,  and  the  supper-parties, — the  nodes 
ceenceque  ? Poor  Burgoyne  ! I am  sure  you  all  mourned  him  as  I did,  par- 
ticularly Richardson  : — pray  remember  me  affectionately  to  Richardson.  It 
is  a shame  for  you  all,  and  I will  say  ungrateful  in  many  of  you,  to  have  so 
totally  forgotten  me,  and  to  leave  me  in  ignorance  of  every  thing  public 
and  private  in  which  I am  interested.  The  only  creature  who  writes  to 
me  is  the  Duke  of  Portland  ; but  in  the  great  and  weighty  occupations  that 
engross  his  mind,  you  can  easily  conceive  that  the  little  details  of  our  So- 
ciety cannot  enter  into  His  Grace’s  correspondence.  I have  indeed  carried 
on  a pretty  regular  correspondence  with  young  Burke.  But  that  is  now 
at  an  end.  He  is  so  wrapt  up  in  the  importance  of  his  present  pursuits,  that 
it  is  too  great  an  honor  for  me  to  continue  to  correspond  with  him.  His 
father  I ever  must  venerate  and  ever  love  ; yet  I never  could  admire,  even 
in  him,  what  his  son  has  inherited  from  him,  a tenacity  of  opinion  and  a 
violence  of  principle , that  makes  him  lose  his  friendships  in  his  politics,  and 
quarrel  with  every  one  who  differs  from  him.  Bitterly  have  I lamented 
that  greatest  of  these  quarrels,  and,  indeed,  the  only  important  one  : nor 
cau  I conceive  it  to  have  been  less  afflicting  to  my  private  feelings  than 
fatal  to  the  party.  The  worst  of  it  to  me  was,  that  I was  obliged  to  con- 
demn the  man  I loved,  and  that  all  the  warmth  of  my  affection,  and  the 
zeal  of  my  partiality,  could  no^suggest  a single  excuse  to  vindicate  him 
either  to  the  world  or  to  myself,  from  the  crime  (for  such  it  was)  of  giving 
such  a triumph  to  the  common  enemy.  He  failed,  too,  in  what  I most  loved 
him  for, — his  heart.  There  it  was  that  Mr.  Fox  principally  rose  above  him  ; 
nor,  amiable  as  he  ever  has  been,  did  he  ever  appear  half  so  amiable  as 
on  that  trying  occasion.” 

The  topic  upon  which  Sheridan  most  distinguished  himself 
during  this  Session  was  the  meditated  interference  of  England  in 


EIGHT  HON.  EIGHARI)  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  119 

the  war  between  Russia  and  the  Porte, — one  of  the  few  measures 
of  Mr.  Pitt  on  which  the  sense  of  the  nation  was  opposed  to  him. 
So  unpopular,  indeed,  was  the  Armament,  proposed  to  be  raised 
for  this  object,  and  so  rapidly  did  the  majority  of  the  Minister 
diminish  during  the  discussion  of  it,  that  there  appeared  for  some 
time  a probability  that  the  Whig  party  would  be  called  into 
power, — an  event  which,  happening  at  this  critical  juncture, 
might,  by  altering  the  policy  of  England,  have  changed  the  des- 
tinies of  all  Europe. 

The  circumstance  to  which  at  present  this  Russian  question 
owes  its  chief  hold  upon  English  memories  is  the  charge,  arising 
out  of  it,  brought  against  Mr.  Fox  of  having  sent  Mr.  Adair  as 
his  representative  to  Petersburgh,  for  the  purpose  of  frustrating 
the  objects  for  which  the  King’s  ministers  were  then  actually  ne- 
gotiating. This  accusation,  though  more  than  once  obliquely 
intimated  during  the  discussions  upon  the  Russian  Armament  in 
1791,  first  met  the  public  eye,  in  any  tangible  form,  among  those 
celebrated  Articles  of  Impeachment  against  Mr.  Fox,  which  were 
drawn  up  by  Burke’s  practised  hand^'  in  1793,  and  found  their 
way  surreptitiously  into  print  in  1797.  The  angry  and  vindictive 
tone  of  this  paper  was  but  little  calculated^to  inspire  confidence 
in  its  statements,  and  the  charge  again  died  away,  unsupported 
and  unrefuted,  till  the  appearance  of  the  Memoirs  of  Mr.  Pitt  by 
the  Bishop  of  Winchester ; when,  upon  the  authority  of  docu- 
ments said  to  be  found  among  the  papers  of  Mr.  Pitt,  but  not 
produced,  the  accusation  was  revived, — the  Right  Reverend 
biographer  calling  in  aid  of  his  own  view  of  the  transaction  the 
charitable  opinion  of  the  Turks,  who,  he  complacently  assures 
us,  “ expressed  great  surprise  that  Mr.  Fox  had  not  lost  his  head 
for  such  conduct.”  Notwithstanding,  however,  this  Concordat 
between  the  Right  Reverend  Prelate  and  the  Turks,  something 
more  is  still  wanting  to  give  validity  to  so  serious  an  accusation. 
Until  the  production  of  the  alleged  proofs  (which  Mr.  Adair  has 

* This  was  the  third  time  that  his  talent  for  impeachin;2:  was  exercised,  as  he  aclcnowl- 
edged  having  drawn  up,  during  the  administration  of  Lord  North,  seven  distinct  Articles 
of  Impeachment  against  that  nobleman,  which,  hovyever,  the  advice  of  Lord  Rocking 
^am  induced  him  to  relincjuish. 


120 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


confidently  demanded)  shall  have  put  the  public  in  possession  of 
more  recondite  materials  for  judging,  they  must  regard  as  satis- 
factory and  conclusive  the  refutation  of  the  whole  charge,  both 
as  regards  himself  and  his  illustrious  friend,  which  Mr.  Adair  has 
laid  before  the  world ; and  for  the  truth  of  which  not  only  his  own 
high  character,  but  the  character  of  the  ministries  of  both  par- 
ties, who  have  since  employed  him  in  missions  of  the  first  trust 
and  importance,  seem  to  offer  the  strongest  and  most  convincing 
pledges. 

The  Empress  of  Russia,  in  testimony  of  her  admiration  of  the 
eloquence  of  Mr.  Fox  on  this  occasion,  sent  an  order  to  England, 
through  her  ambassador,  for  a bust  of  that  statesman,  which  it 
was  her  intention,  she  said,  to  place  between  those  of  Demos- 
thenes and  Cicero.  The  following  is  a literal  copy  of  Her  Impe- 
rial Majesty’s  note  on  the  subject  — 

‘‘  Ecrives  au  Cte.  Worenzof  qu’il  me  fasse  avoir  en  marbre  blanc  le  Buste 
resemblant  de  Charle  Fox.  Je  veut  le  mettre  sur  ma  Colonade  entre  eux 
de  Demosthene  et  Ciceron. 

II  a delivre  par  son  eloquence  sa  Patrie  et  la  Russie  d’une  guerre  a la 
quelle  il  n’y  avoit  ni  justice  ni  raisons.’’ 

Another  subject  that  engaged  much  of  the  attention  of  Mr. 
Sheridan  this  year  was  his  own  motion  relative  to  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  Royal  Scotch  Boroughs.  He  had  been,  singularly 
enough,  selected,  in  the  year  1787,  by  the  Burgesses  of  Scotland, 
in  preference  to  so  many  others  possessing  more  personal  know- 
ledge of  that  country,  to  present  to  the  House  the  Petition  of  the 
Convention  of  Delegates,  for  a Reform  of  the  internal  govern- 
ment of  the  Royal  Boroughs.  How  fully  satisfied  they  were 
mth  his  exertions  in  their  cause  may  be  judged  by  the  following 
extract  from  the  Minutes  of  Convention,  dated*  11th  August, 
1791 

Mr.  Mills  of  Perth,  after  a suitable  introductory  speech,  moved  a vote 
of  thanks  to  Mr.  Sheridan,  in  the  following  words  : — 

* Found  among  Mr.  Sheridan’s  papers,  with  the.se  words,  in  his  own  hand-writing, 
annexed  : — “N.  B.  Fox  would  have  lost  it,  if  I had  not  made  him  look  for  it,  and  taken 
a copy.’^ 


EIGHT  HON.  RICHAKD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  121 


‘^The  Delegates  of  the  Burgesses  of  Scotland,  associated  for  the  pur- 
pose of  Reform,  taking  into  their  most  serious  consideration  the  important 
services  rendered  to  their  cause  by  the  manly  and  prudent  exertions  of 
Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan,  Esq.,  the  genuine  and  fixed  attachment  to  it 
which  the  whole  tenor  of  his  conduct  has  evinced,  and  the  admirable  moder- 
ation he  has  all  along  displayed, 

‘‘  Resolved  unanimously.  That  the  most  sincere  thanks  of  this  meeting 
be  given  to  the  said  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan,  Esq.,  for  his  steady,  honor- 
able, and  judicious  conduct  in  bringing  the  question  relative  to  the  violated 
rights  of  the  Scottish  Boroughs  to  its  present  important  and  favorable  cri- 
sis ; and  the  Burgesses  with  firm  confidence  hope  that,  from  his  attachment 
to  the  cause,  which  he  has  shown  to  be  deeply  rooted  in  principle,  he  will 
persevere  to  exert  his  distinguished  abilities,  till  the  objects  of  it  are  ob- 
tained, with  that  inflexible  firmness,  and  constitutional  moderation,  which 
have  appeared  so  conspicuous  and  exemplary  throughout  the  whole  of  his 
conduct,  as  to  be  highly  deserving  of  the  imitation  of  all  good  citizens. 

“ John  Ewen,  Secretary.” 

From  a private  letter  written  this  year  by  one  of  the  Scottish 
Delegates  to  a friend  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  (a  copy  of  which  letter  I 
have  found  among  the  papers  of  the  latter,)  it  appears  that  the 
disturbing  effects  of  Mr.  Burke’s  book  had  already  shown  them- 
selves so  strongly  among  the  Whig  party  as  to  fill  the  writer 
with  apprehensions  of  their  defection,  even  on  the  safe  and  mode- 
rate question  of  Scotch  Reform.  He  mentions  one  distinguished 
member  of  the  party,  who  afterwards  stood  conspicuously  in  the 
very  van  of  the  Opposition,  but  who  at  that  moment,  if  the  au- 
thority of  the  letter  may  be  depended  upon,  was,  like  others, 
under  the  spell  of  the  great  Alarmist,  and  yielding  rapidly  to  the 
influence  of  that  anti-revolutionary  terror,  which,  like  the  Panic 
dignified  by  the  ancients  with  the  name  of  one  of  their  Gods,  will 
be  long  associated  in  the  memories  of  Englishmen  with  the 
mighty  name  and  genius  of  Burke.  A consultation  was,  how- 
ever, held  among  this  portion  of  the  party,  with  respect  to  the 
prudence  of  lending  their  assistance  to  the  measure  of  Scotch 
Reform;  and  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  as  I have  heard  him  say, 
was  in  company  with  Sheridan,  when  Dr.  Lawrence  came  direct 
from  the  meeting,  to  inform  him  that  they  had  agreed  to  support 
his  motion. 

yOL,  II. 


6 


122 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


The  state  of  the  Scotch  Representation  is  one  of  those  cases 
where  a dread  of  the  ulterior  objects  of  Reform  induces  many 
persons  to  oppose  its  first  steps,  however  beneficial  and  reason* 
able  they  may  deem  them,  rather  than  risk  a further  application 
of  the  principle,  or  open  a breach  by  which  a bolder  spirit  of  in- 
novation may  enter.  As  it  is,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  popular 
election  in  Scotland.  We  cannot,  indeed,  more  clearly  form  to 
ourselves  a notion  of  the  manner  in  which  so  important  a portion 
of  the  British  empire  is  represented,  than  by  supposing  the  Lords 
of  the  Manor  throughout  England  to  be  invested  with  the  power 
of  electing  her  representatives, — the  manorial  rights,  too,  being, 
in  a much  greater  number  of  instances  than  at  present,  held  in- 
dependently of  the  land  from  which  they  derive  their  claim,  and 
thus  the  natural  connection  between  property  and  the  right  of 
election  being,  in  most  cases,  wholly  separated.  Such  would  be, 
as  nearly  as  possible,  a parallel  to  the  system  of  representation 
now  existing  in  Scotland ; — a system,  which  it  is  the  understood 
duty  of  all  present  and  future  Lord  Advocates  to  defend,  and 
which  neither  the  lively  assaults  of  a Sheridan  nor  the  sounder 
reasoning  and  industry  of  an  Abercrombie  have  yet  been  able  to 
shake. 

The  following  extract  from  another^of  the  many  letters  of  Dr. 
Parr  to  Sheridan  shows  still  further  the  feeling  entertained 
towards  Burke,  even  by  some  of  those  who  most  violently  dif- 
fered with  him  : — 

‘‘  During  the  recess  of  Parliament  I hope  you  will  read  the  mighty  work 
of  my  friend  and  your  friend,  and  Mr.  Fox’s  friend,  Mackintosh : there  is 
some  obscurity  and  there  are  many  Scotticisms  in  it ; yet  I do  pronounce  it 
the  work  of  a most  masculine  and  comprehensive  mind.  The  arrangement 
is  far  more  methodical  than  Mr.  Burke’s,  the  sentiments  are  more  patriotic, 
the  reasoning  is  more  profound,  and  even  the  imagery  in  some  places  is 
scarcely  less  splendid.  I think  Mackintosh  a better  philosopher,  and  a bet- 
ter citizen,  and  I know  him  to  be  a far  better  scholar  and  a far  better  man 
than  Payne  ; in  whose  book  there  are  great  irradiations  of  genius,  but  none 
of  the  glowing  and  generous  warmth  which  virtue  inspires  ; that  warmth 
which  is  often  kindled  in  the  bosom  of  Mackintosh,  and  which  pervades 
almost  every  page  of  Mr.  Burke’s  book—  ‘koiigh  I confess,  and  with  sorrow 


EIGHT  HON.  EICHAKD  BEINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  123 

I confess,  that  the  holy  flame  was  quite  extinguished  in  his  odious  alterca- 
tion with  you  and  Mr.  Fox.’^ 

A letter  from  the  Prince  of  Wales  to  Sheridan  this  year  fur- 
nishes a new  proof  of  the  confidence  reposed  in  him  by  His 
Royal  Highness.  A question  of  much  delicacy  and  importance 
having  arisen  between  that  Illustrious  Personage  and  the  Duke 
of  York,  of  a nature,  as  it  appears,  too  urgent  to  wait  for  a refe- 
rence to  Mr.  Fox,  Sheridan  had  alone  the  honor  of  advising  His 
Royal  Highness  in  the  correspondence  that  took  place  between 
him  and  his  Royal  Brother  on  that  occasion.  Though  the  letter 
affords  no  immediate  clue  to  the  subject  of  these  communications, 
there  is  little  doubt  that  they  referred  to  a very  important  and 
embarrassing  question,  which  is  known  to  have  been  put  by  the 
Duke  of  York  to  the  Heir- Apparent,  previously  to  his  own  mar- 
riage this  year ; — a question  which  involved  considerations  con- 
nected with  the  Succession  to  the  Crown,  and  which  the  Prince, 
with  the  recollection  of  what  occurred  on  the  same  subject  m 
1787,  could  only  get  rid  of  by  an  evasive  answer. 


CHAPTER  V. 


DEATH  OF  MRS.  SHERIDAH. 

In  the  year  1792,  after  a long  illness,  which  terminated  in 
consumption,  Mrs.  Sheridan  died  at  Bristol,  in  the  thirty-eighth 
year  of  her  age. 

There  has  seldom,  perhaps,  existed  a finer  combination  of  all 
those  qualities  that  attract  bt)th  eye  and  heart,  than  this  accom- 
plished and  lovely  person  exhibited.  To  judge  by  what  we  hear, 
it  was  impossible  to  see  her  without  admiration,  or  know  her 
without  love ; and  a late  Bishop  used  to  say  that  she  “ seemed 
to  him  the  connecting  link  between  woman  and  angel.”*  The 
devotedness  of  affection,  too,  with  which  she  was  regarded,  not 
only  by  her  own  father  and  sisters,  but  by  all  her  husband’s 
family,  showed  that  her  fascination  was  of  that  best  kind  which, 
like  charity,  “ begins  at  home  and  that  while  her  beauty  and 
music  enchanted  the  world,  she  had  charms  more  intrinsic  and 
lasting  for  those  who  came  nearer  to  her.  W e have  already  seen 
with  what  pliant  sympathy  she  followed  her  husband  through  his 
various  pursuits, — identifying  herself  with  the  politician  as  warm- 
ly and  readily  as  with  the  author,  and  keeping  Love  still  attendant 
on  Genius  through  all  his  transformations.  As  the  wife  of  the 
dramatist  and  manager,  we  find  her  calculating  the  receipts  of 
the  house,  assisting  in  the  adaptation  of  her  husband’s  opera,  and 
reading  over  the  plays  sent  in  by  dramatic  candidates.  As  the 
w ife  of  the  senator  and  orator  we  see  her,  with  no  less  zeal, 

* Jackson  of  Exeter,  too,  giving  a description  of  her,  in  some  Memoirs  of  his  own  Life 
that  were  never  published,  said  that  to  see  her,  as  she  stood  singing  beside  hint  the 
|)iaRp-forte,  “ like  looking  into  the  fgpe  of  hji  anpl.’^ 


RIGHT  HO]Sr.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  125 


making  extracts  from  state-papers,  and  copying  out  ponderous 
pamphlets, — entering  with  all  her  heart  and  soul  into  the  details 
of  elections,  and  even  endeavoring  to  fathom  the  mysteries  of  the 
Funds.  The  affectionate  and  sensible  care  with  which  she  watched 
over,  not  only  her  own  children,  but  those  which  her  beloved  sis- 
ter, Mrs.  Tickell,  confided  to  her,  in  dying,  gives  the  finish  to  this 
picture  of  domestic  usefulness.  When  it  is  recollected,  too,  that 
the  person  thus  homelily  employed  was  gifted  with  every  charm 
that  could  adorn  and  delight  society,  it  would  be  difficult,  per- 
haps, to  find  any  where  a more  perfect  example  of  that  happy 
mixture  of  utility  and  ornament,  in  which  all  that  is  prized  by 
the  husband  and  the  lover  combines,  and  which  renders  woman 
what  the  Sacred  Fire  was  to  the  Parsees, — not  only  an  object  of 
adoration  on  their  altars,  but  a source  of  warmth  and  comfort  to 
their  hearths. 

To  say  that,  with  all  this,  she  was  not  happy,  nor  escaped  the 
censure  of  the  w'orld,  is  but  to  assign  to  her  that  share  of  shadow, 
without  which  nothing  bright  ever  existed  on  this  earth.  United 
not  only  by  marriage,  but  by  love,  to  a man  who  was  the  object 
of  universal  admiration,  and  whose  vanity  and  passions  too  often 
led  him  to  yield  to  the  temptations  by  which  he  was  surrounded, 
it  was  but  natural  that,  in  the  consciousness  of  her  own  power  to 
charm,  she  should  be  now  and  then  piqued  into  an  appearance  of 
retaliation,  and  seem  to  listen  with  complaisance  to  some  of  those 
numerous  worshippers,  who  crowd  around  such  beautiful  and  un 
guarded  shrines.  Not  that  she  was  at  any  time  unwatched  by 
Sheridan, — on  the  contrary,  he  followed  her  with  a lover’s  eyes 
throughout ; and  it  was  believed  of  both,  by  those  who  knew 
them  best,  that,  even  when  they  seemed  most  attracted  by  other 
objects,  they  would  willingly,  had  they  consulted  the  real  wishes 
of  their  hearts,  have  given  up  every  one  in  the  world  for  each 
other.  So  wantonly  do  those,  who  have  happiness  in  their  grasp, 
trifle  with  that  rare  and  delicate  treasure,  till,  like  the  careless 
hand  playing  with  the  rose. 

In  swinging  it  rudely,  too  rudely,  alas. 

They  snap  it — it  falls  to  the  ground.” 


126 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


They  had,  immediately  after  their  marriage,  as  we  have  seen, 
passed  some  time  in  a little  cottage  at  Eastburnham,  and  it  was  a 
period,  of  course,  long  remembered  by  them  both  for  its  happi- 
ness. I have  been  told  by  a friend  of  Sheridan,  that  he  once 
overheard  him  exclaiming  to  himself,  after  looking  for  some 
moments  at  his  wife,  with  a pang,  no  doubt,  of  melancholy  self- 
reproach, — “ Could  anything  bring  back  those  first  feelings  ?” 
then  adding  with  a sigh,  “ Yes,  perhaps,  the  cottage  at  East- 
burnham might.”  In  this  as  well  as  in  some  other  traits  of  the 
same  kind,  there  is  assuredly  any  thing  but  that  common-place 
indifference,  w^hich  too  often  clouds  over  the  evening  of  married 
life.  On  the  contrary,  it  seems  rather  the  struggle  of  affection 
with  its  own  remorse ; and,  like  the  humorist  who  mourned  over 
the  extinction  of  his  intellect  so  eloquently  as  to  prove  that  it 
was  still  in  full  vigor,  shows  love  to  be  still  warmly  alive  in  the 
very  act  of  lamenting  its  death. 

I have  already  presented  the  reader  with  some  letters  of  Mrs. 
Sheridan,  in  which  the  feminine  character  of  her  mind  very  in- 
terestingly displays  itself  Their  chief  charm  is  unaffectedness, 
and  the  total  absence  of  that  literary  style,  which  in  the  present 
day  infects  even  the  most  familiar  correspondence.  I shall  here 
give  a few  more  of  her  letters,  written  at  different  periods  to  the 
elder  sister  of  Sheridan, — it  being  one  of  her  many  merits  to 
have  kept  alive  between  her  husband  and  his  family,  though  so 
far  separated,  a constant  and  cordial  intercourse,  which,  unluckily, 
after  her  death,  from  his  own  indolence  and  the  new  connections 
into  which  he  entered,  was  suffered  to  die  away,  almost  entirely. 
The  first  letter,  from  its  allusion  to  the  Westminster  Scrutiny, 
must  have  been  written  in  the  year  1784,  Mr.  Fox  having  gained 
his  great  victory  over  Sir  Cecil  Wray  on  the  17th  of  May,  and 
the  Scrutiny  having  been  granted  on  the  same  day. 

My  dear  Lisst,  London,  June  6. 

I am  happy  to  find  by  yonr  last  that  our  apprehensions  on  Charles’s 
account  were  useless.  The  many  reports  that  were  circulated  here  of  his 
accident  gave  us  a good  deal  of  uneasiness  5 but  it  is  no  longer  wonderful 


KlGHl*  HON,  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  127 


that  he  should  be  buried  here,  when  Mr.  Jackman  has  so  barbarously  mur- 
dered him  with  you.  I fancy  he  would  risk  another  broken  head,  rather 
than  give  up  his  title  to  it  as  an  ofiScer  of  the  Crown.  We  go  on  here 
wrangling  as  usual,  but  I am  afraid  all  to  no  purpose.  Those  who  are  in 
possession  of  power  are  determined  to  use  it  without  the  least  pretence  to 
justice  or  consistency.  They  have  ordered  a Scrutiny  for  Westminster,  in 
defiance  of  all  law  or  precedent,  and  without  any  other  hope  or  expectation 
but  that  of  harassing  and  tormenting  Mr.  Fox  and  his  friends,  and  obliging 
them  to  waste  their  time  and  money,  which  perhaps  they  think  might  other- 
wise be  employed  to  a better  purpose  in  another  cause.  We  have  nothing 
for  it  but  patience  and  perseverance,  which  I hope  will  at  last  be  crowned 
with  success,  though  I fear  it  will  be  a much  longer  trial  than  we  at  first 

expected.  I hear  from  every  body  that  your are  vastly  disliked— but 

are  you  not  all  kept  in  awe  by  such  beauty  ? I know  she  flattered  hersell 
to  subdue  all  your  Volunteers  by  the  fire  of  her  eyes  only  : — how  astonish- 
ed she  must  be  to  find  that  they  have  not  yet  laid  down  their  arms ! There  is 
nothing  would  tempt  me  to  trust  my  sweet  person  upon  the  water  sooner 
than  the  thoughts  of  seeing  you  ; but  I fear  my  friendship  will  hardly  ever 
be  put  to  so  hard  a trial.  Though  Sheridan  is  not  in  office,  I think  he  is 
more  engaged  by  politics  than  ever. 

“ I suppose  we  shall  not  leave  town  till  September.  We  have  promised 
to  pay  many  visits,  but  I fear  we  shall  be  obliged  to  give  up  many  of  our 
schemes,  for  I take  it  for  granted  Parliament  will  meet  again  as  soon  as 
possible.  We  are  to  go  to  Chatsworth,  and  to  another  friend  of  mine  in 
that  neighborhood,  so  that  I doubt  our  being  able  to  pay  our  annual  visit 
to  Crewe  Hall.  Mrs.  Crewe  has  been  very  ill  all  this  winter  with  your  old 
complaint,  the  rheumatism — she  is  gone  to  Brightelmstone  to  wash  it  away 
in  the  sea.  Do  you  ever  see  Mrs.  Greville  ? I am  glad  to  hear  my  two 
nephews  are  both  in  so  thriving  a way.  Are  you  still  a nurse  ? I should 
like  to  take  a peep  at  your  bantlings.  V/hich  is  the  handsomest  ? have 
you  candor  enough  to  think  any  thing  equal  to  your  own  boy  ? if  you  have^ 
you  have  more  merit  than  I can  claim.  Pray  remember  me  kindly  to  Bess, 
Mr.  L.,  &c.,  and  don’t  forget  to  kiss  the  little  squaller  for  me  when  you  have 
nothing  better  to  do.  God  bless  you. 

Ever  yours.” 

“ The  inclosed  came  to  Dick  in  one  of  Charles’s  franks  ; he  said  he  should 
write  to  you  himself  with  it,  but  I think  it  safest  not  to  trust  him.” 

In  another  letter,  written  in  the  same  year,  there  are  some 
touches  both  of  sisterly  and  of  conjugal  feeling,  which  seem  to 
bespeak  a heart  happy  in  all  its  affections. 


128 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


My  Dear  Lisst,  Putney,  August  16. 

You  will  no  doubt  be  surprised  to  find  me  still  dating  from  this  plact. 
but  various  reasons  have  detained  me  here  from  day  to  day,  to  the  great 
dissatisfaction  of  my  dear  Mary,  who  has  been  expecting  me  hourly  for  the 
last  fortnight.  I propose  going  to  Hampton-Court  to  night,  if  Dick  returns 
in  any  decent  time  from  town. 

‘‘  I got  your  letter  and  a half  the  day  before  yesterday,  and  shall  be  very 
well  pleased  to  have  such  blunders  occur  more  frequently.  You  mistake, 
if  you  suppose  I am  a friend  to  your  tarrers  and  featherers : — it  is  such 
wretches  that  always  ruin  a good  cause.  There  is  no  reason  on  earth  why 
you  should  not  have  a new  Parliament  as  well  as  us  : — it  might  not,  per- 
haps, be  quite  as  convenient  to  our  immaculate  Minister,  but  I sincerely  hope 
he  will  not  find  your  Volunteers  so  accommodating  as  the  present  India 
troops  in  our  House  of  Commons.  What ! does  the  Secretary  at  War  con- 
descend to  reside  in  any  house  but  his  own  ? — ’Tis  very  odd  he  should  turn 
himself  out  of  doors  in  his  situation.  I never  could  perceive  any  economy 
in  dragging  furniture  from  one  place  to  another ; but,  of  course,  he  has 
more  experience  in  these  matters  than  I have. 

Mr.  Forbes  dined  here  the  other  day,  and  I had  a great  deal  ot  conver- 
sation with  him  on  various  subjects  relating  to  you  all.  He  says,  Charleses 
manner  of  talking  of  his  wife,  &c.  is  so  ridiculous,  that,  whenever  he  comes 

into  company,  they  always  cry  out, — ‘ Now  S n,  we  allow  you  half  an 

hour  to  talk  of  the  beauties  of  Mrs.  S. — half  an  hour  to  your  child,  and  an- 
other half  hour  to  your  farm, — and  then  we  expect  you  will  behave  like  a 
reasonable  person.’ 

“ So  Mrs. is  not  happy  : poor  thing,  I dare  say,  if  the  truth  were 

known,  he  teazes  her  to  death.  Your  very  good  husbands  generally  contrive 
to  make  you  sensible  of  their  merit  somehow  or  other. 

‘‘  From  a letter  Mr.  Canning  has  just  got  from  Dublin,  I find  you  have 
been  breaking  the  heads  of  some  of  our  English  heroes.  I have  no  doubt 
in  the  world  that  they  deserved  it ; and  if  half  a score  more  that  I know 
had  shared  the  same  fate,  it  might,  perhaps,  become  less  the  fashion  among 
our  young  men  to  be  such  contemptible  coxcombs  as  they  certainly  are. 

“ My  sister  desired  me  to  say  all  sorts  of  affectionate  things  to  you,  in 
return  for  your  kind  remembrance  of  her  in  your  last.  I assure  you,  you 
lost  a great  deal  by  not  seeing  her  in  her  maternal  character : — it  is  the 
prettiest  sight  in  the  world  to  see  her  with  her  children  : — they  are  both 
charming  creatures,  but  my  little  namesake  is  my  delight : — ’tis  impossible 
to  say  how  foolishly  fond  of  her  I am.  Poor  Mary ! she  is  in  a way  to  have 
more  and  what  will  become  of  them  all  is  sometimes  a consideration  that 
gives  me  many  a painful  hour.  But  they  are  happy,  with  their  little  por- 
tion of  the  goods  of  this  world  : — then,  what  are  riches  good  for  ? For  my 


iilGHT  HON.  EICHAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  129 

part,  as  you  know,  poor  Dick  and  I have  always  been  struggling  against 
the  stream,  and  shall  probably  continue  to  do  so  to  the  end  of  our  lives, — 
yet  we  would  not  change  sentiments  or  sensations  with  ....  for  all  his 
estate.  By  the  bye,  I was  told  t’other  day  he  was  going  to  receive  eight 
thousand  pounds  as  a compromise  for  his  uncle’s  estate,  which  has  been  so 
long  in  litigation  : — is  it  true  ? — I dare  say  it  is,  though,  or  he  would  not 
be  so  discontented  as  you  say  he  is.  God  bless  you. — Give  my  love  to  Bess, 
and  return  a kiss  to  my  nephew  for  me.  Remember  me  to  Mr.  L.  and  be- 
lieve me 

“ Truly  yours.” 

The  following  letter  appears  to  have  been  written  in  1785, 
some  months  after  the  death  of  her  sister,  Miss  Maria  Linley. 
Her  playful  allusions  to  the  fame  of  her  own  beauty  might  have 
been  answered  in  the  language  of  Paris  to  Helen  : — 

Minor  est  tua  gloria  vero 
Famaque  de  forma  pene  maligna 

Thy  beauty  far  outruns  even  rumor’s  tongue, 

And  envious  fame  leaves  half  thy  charms  unsung.” 

“My  Dear  Lissy,  Delapre  Abbey,  Dec.  27. 

“ Notwithstanding  your  incredulity,  I assure  you  I wrote  to  you  from 
Hampton-Court,  very  soon  after  Bess  came  to  England.  My  letter  was  a 
dismal  one  ; for  my  mind  was  at  that  time  entirely  occupied  by  the  atfect- 
ing  circumstance  of  my  poor  sister’s  death.  Perhaps  you  lost  nothing  by 
not  receiving  my  letter,  for  it  was  not  much  calculated  to  amuse  you. 

I am  still  a recluse,  you  see,  but  I am  preparing  to  launch  for  the  win- 
ter in  a few  days.  Dick  was  detained  in  town  by  a bad  fever  : — you  may 
suppose  I was  kept  in  ignorance  of  his  situation,  or  I should  not  have  re- 
mained so  quietly  here.  He  came  last  week,  and  the  fatigue  of  the  journey 
very  nearly  occasioned  a relapse  : — but  by  the  help  of  a jewel  of  a doctor 
that  lives  in  this  neighborhood  we  are  both  quite  stout  and  well  again, 
(for  I took  it  into  my  head  to  fall  sick  again,  too,  without  rhyme  or  rea- 
son.) 

“We  purpose  going  to  town  to-morrow  or  next  day.  Our  own  house 
has  been  painting  and  papering,  and  the  weather  has  been  so  unfavorable 
to  the  business,  that  it  is  probable  it  will  not  be  fit  for  us  to  go  into  this 
month  ; we  have,  therefore,  accepted  a most  pressing  invitation  of  General 
Burgoyne  to  take  up  our  abode  with  him,  till  our  house  is  ready  ; so  your 
next  must  be  directed  to  Bruton-Street,  under  cover  to  Dick,  unless  Charles 
will  frank  it  again.  I don’t  believe  what  you  say  of  Charles’s  not  being 

VOL.  n.  6* 


ISO 


MEMOIRS  OV'  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


glad  to  have  seen  me  in  Dublin.  You  are  very  flattering  in  the  reasons 
you  give,  but  I rather  think  his  vanity  would  have  beeu  more  gratified  by 
showing  every  body  how  much  prettier  and  younger  his  wife  was  than  the 
Mrs.  Sheridan  in  whose  favor  they  have  been  prejudiced  by  your  good-na- 
tured partiality.  If  I could  have  persuaded  myself  to  trust  the  treacher- 
ous ocean,  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  and  your  nursery  would  have  com- 
pensated for  all  the  fame  I should  have  lost  by  a comparison.  But  my 
guardian  sylph,  vainer  of  my  beauty,  perhaps,  than  myself,  would  not  suf- 
fer me  to  destroy  the  flattering  illusion  you  have  so  often  displayed  to  your 
Irish  friends.  No, — I shall  stay  till  I am  past  all  pretensions,  and  then  you 
may  excuse  your  want  of  taste  by  saying,  ‘ Oh,  if  you  had  seen  her  when 
she  was  young  V 

I am  very  glad  that  Bess  is  satisfied  with  my  attention  to  her.  The 
unpleasant  situation  I was  in  prevented  my  seeing  her  as  often  as  I could 
wish.  For  her  sake  I assure  you  I shall  be  glad  to  have  Dick  and  your  fa- 
ther on  good  terms,  without  entering  into  any  arguments  on  the  subject ; 
but  I fear,  where  one  of  the  parties,  at  least,  has  a tincture  of  what  they 
call  in  Latin  damnatus  ohstinatus  mulioy  the  attempt  will  be  difiScult,  and 
the  success  uncertain.  God  bless  you,  and  believe  me 

“ Mrs.  Lefanu,  Great  Guff-Street,  Dublin.  Truly  yours.^’ 

The  next  letter  I shall  give  refers  to  the  illness  with  which  old 
Mr.  Sheridan  was  attacked  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1788,  and 
of  which  he  died  in  the  month  of  August  following.  It  is  unne- 
cessary to  direct  the  reader’s  attention  to  the  passages  in  which 
she  speaks  of  her  lost  sister,  Mrs.  Tickell,  and  her  children : — 
they  have  too  much  of  the  heart’s  best  feelings  in  them  to  be 
passed  over  slightly. 

“ My  Dear  Lissy^  London,  April  5. 

‘‘  Your  last  letter  I hope  was  written  when  you  were  low  spirited,  and 
consequently  inclined  to  forebode  misfortune.  I would  not  show  it  to  She- 
ridan : — he  has  lately  been  much  harassed  by  business,  and  I could  not  bear 
to  give  him  the  pain  I know  your  letter  would  have  occasioned.  Partial 
as  your  father  has  always  been  to  Charles,  I am  confident  he  never  has, 
nor  ever  will  feel  half  the  duty  and  affections  that  Dick  has  always  exprest. 
I know  how  deeply  he  will  be  afflicted,  if  you  confirm  the  melancholy  ac- 
count of  his  declining  health  but  I trust  your  next  will  remove  my  ap- 
prehensions, and  make  it  unnecessary  for  me  to  wound  his  affectionate 
heart  by  the  intelligence.  I flatter  myself  likewise,  that  you  have  been 
without  reason  alarmed  about  poor  Bess.  Her  life,  to  be  sure,  must  be 


EIGHT  HOH.  RICHABD  BRINSLEV  SHERIDAIT.  ISI 


dreadful ; — but  I should  hope  the  good  nature  and  kindness  of  her  disposi- 
tion will  support  her,  and  enable  her  to  continue  the  painful  duty  so  ne- 
cessary, probably,  to  the  comfort  of  your  poor  father.  If  Charles  has  not 
or  does  not  do  every  thing  in  his  power  to  contribute  to  the  happiness  of 
the  few  years  which  nature  can  allow  him,  he  will  have  more  to  answer  to 
his  conscience  than  I trust  any  of  those  dear  to  me  will  have.  Mrs.  Crewe 
told  us,  the  other  day,  she  had  heard  from  Mrs.  Greville,  that  every  thing 
was  settled  much  to  your  father’s  satisfaction.  I will  hope,  therefore,  as  I 
have  said  before,  you  were  in  a gloomy  fit  when  you  wrote,  and  in  the 
mean  time  I will  congratulate  you  on  the  recovery  of  your  own  health  and 
that  of  your  children. 

I have  been  confined  now  near  two  months  : — I caught  cold  almost  im- 
mediately on  coming  to  town,  which  brought  on  all  those  dreadful  com- 
plaints with  which  I was  afflicted  at  Crewe-Hall.  By  constant  attention 
and  strict  regimen  I am  once  more  got  about  again  ; but  I never  go  out 
of  my  house  after  the  sun  is  down,  and  on  those  terms  only  can  I enjoy 
tolerable  health.  I never  knew  Dick  better.  My  dear  boy  is  now  with  me 
for  his  holydays,  and  a charming  creature  he  is,  I assure  you,  in  every  re- 
spect. My  sweet  little  charge,  too,  promise^o  reward  me  for  all  my  care 
and  anxiety.  The  little  ones  come  to  me  every  day,  though  they  do  not 
at  present  live  with  me.  We  think  of  taking  a house  in  the  country  this 
summer  as  necessary  for  my  health  and  convenient  to  S.,  who  must  be 
often  in  town.  I shall  then  have  all  the  children  with  me,  as  they  now 
constitute  a very  great  part  of  my  happiness.  The  scenes  of  sorrow  and 
sickness  I have  lately  gone  through  have  depressed  my  spirits,  and  made 
me  incapable  of  finding  pleasure  in  the  amusements  which  used  to  occupy 
me  perhaps  too  much.  My  greatest  delight  is  in  the  reflection  that  I am 
acting  according  to  the  wishes  of  my  ever  dear  and  lamented  sister,  and 
that  by  fulfilling  the  sacred  trust  bequeathed  me  in  her  last  moments,  I 
insure  my  own  felicity  in  the  grateful  affection  of  the  sweet  creatures, — 
whom,  though  I love  for  their  own  sakes,  I idolize  w'hen  I consider  them  as 
the  dearest  part  of  her  who  was  the  first  and  nearest  friend  of  my  heart ! 
God  bless  you,  my  dear  Liss : — this  is  a subject  that  alvv^ays  carries  me 
away.  I will  therefore  bid  you  adieu, — only  entreating  you  as  soon  as  you 
can  to  send  me  a more  comfortable  letter.  My  kind  love  to  Bess,  and  Mr.  L. 

Yours,  ever  affectionately.” 


I shall  give  but  one  more  letter ; which  is  perhaps  only  inter- 
esting as  showing  how  little  her  heart  went  along  with  the  gaye- 
ties  into  which  her  husband’s  connection  with  the  world  of  fashion 
and  politics  led  her. 


132 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


My  Dear  Lisst,  May  23. 

I have  only  time  at  present  to  write  a few  lines  at  the  request  of  Mrs. 
Crewe,  who  is  made  very  unhappy  by  an  account  of  Mrs.  Greville's  illness, 
as  she  thinks  it  possible  Mrs.  G.  has  not  confessed  the  whole  of  her  situa- 
tion. She  earnestly  wishes  you  would  find  out  from  Dr.  Quin  what  the 
nature  of  her  complaint  is,  with  every  other  particular  you  can  gather  on 
the  subject,  and  give  me  a line  as  soon  as  possible. 

I am  very  glad  to  find  your  father  is  better.  As  there  has  been  a re- 
cess lately  from  the  Trial,  I thought  it  best  to  acquaint  Sheridan  with  his 
illness.  I hope  now,  however,  there  is  but  little  reason  to  be  alarmed 
about  him.  Mr.  Tickell  has  just  received  an  account  from  Holland,  that 
poor  Mrs.  Berkeley,  (whom  you  know  best  as  Betty  Tickell,)  was  at  the 
point  of  death  in  a consumption. 

‘‘  I hope  in  a very  short  time  now  to  get  into  the  country.  The  Duke 
of  Norfolk  has  lent  us  a house  within  twenty  miles  of  London  ; and  I am 
impatient  to  be  once  more  out  of  this  noisy,  dissipated  town,  where  I do 
nothing  that  I really  like,  and  am  forced  to  appear  pleased  with  every  thing 
odious  to  me.  God  bless  you.  I write  in  the  hurry  of  dressing  for  a great 
ball  given  by  the  Duke  of  York  to-night,  which  I had  determined  not  to  go 
to  till  late  last  night,  when  I was  persuaded  that  it  would  be  very  im- 
proper to  refuse  a Royal  invitation,  if  I was  not  absolutely  confined  by  ill- 
ness. Adieu.  Believe  me  truly  yours. 

You  must  pay  for  this  letter,  for  Dick  has  got  your  last  with  the  direc-  ’ 
tion ; and  any  thing  in  his  hands  is  irrecoverable 

The  health  of  Mrs.  Sheridan,  as  we  see  by  some  of  her  letters, 
had  been  for  some  time  delicate  ; but  it  appears  that  her  last, 
fatal  illness  originated  in  a cold,  which  she  had  caught  in  the 
summer  of  the  preceding  year.  Though  she  continued  from  that 
time  to  grow  gradually  worse,  her  friends  were  flattered  with  the 
hope  that  as  soon  as  her  confinement  should  take  place,  she  would 
be  relieved  from  all  that  appeared  most  dangerous  in  her  com- 
plaint. That  event,  however,  produced  but  a temporary  inter- 
mission of  the  malady,  which  returned  after  a few  days  with  such 
increased  violence,  that  it  became  necessary  for  her,  as  a last 
hope,  to  try  the  waters  of  Bristol. 

The  following  affectionate  letter  of  Tickell  must  have  oeen 
written  at  this  period  : — 

‘‘  My  Dear  Sheridan, 

“ I was  but  too  well  prepared  for  the  melancholy  intelligence  contained 


RIGHT  HON.  BIOHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  133 


in  your  last  letter,  in  answer  to  which,  as  Richardson  will  give  you  this,  I 
leave  it  to  his  kindness  to  do  me  justice  in  every  sincere  and  affectionate 
expression  of  my  grief  for  your  situation,  and  my  entire  readiness  to  obey 
and  further  your  wishes  by  every  possible  exertion. 

It  you  have  any  possible  opportunity,  let  me  entreat  you  to  remember 
me  to  the  dearest,  tenderest  friend  and  sister  of  my  heart.  Sustain  yourself, 
my  dear  Sheridan, 

And  believe  me  yours. 

Most  affectionately  and  faithfully, 

R.  Tickell.” 

The  circumstances  of  her  death  cannot  better  be  told  than  in 
the  language  of  a lady  whose  name  it  would  be  an  honor  to. 
mention,  who,  giving  up  all  other  cares  and  duties,  accompanied 
her  dying  friend  to  Bristol,  and  devoted  herself,  with  a tender- 
ness rarely  equalled  even  among  women,  to  the  soothing  and 
lightening  of  her  last  painful  moments.  From  the  letters  written 
by  this  lady  at  the  time,  some  extracts  have  lately  been  given 
by  Miss  Lefanu"^  in  her  interesting  Memoirs  of  her  grandmother, 
Mrs.  Frances  Sheridan.  But  their  whole  contents  are  so  impor- 
tant to  the  characters  of  the  persons  concerned,  and  so  delicately 
draw  aside  the  veil  from  a scene  of  which  sorrow  and  affection 
were  the  only  witnesses,  that  I feel  myself  justified  not  only  in 
repeating  what  has  already  been  quoted,  but  in  adding  a few 
more  valuable  particulars,  which,  by  the  kindness  of  the  writer 
and  her  correspondent,  I am  enabled  to  give  from  the  same  au- 
thentic source.  The  letters  are  addressed  to  Mrs.  H.  Lefanu,  the 
^second  sister  of  Mr.  Sheridan. 


Bristol,  June  1,  1792. 

“ I am  happy  to  have  it  in  my  power  to  give  you  any  information  on  a 

* The  talents  of  this  young  lady  are  another  proof  of  the  sort  of  gavel-kind  o(  genius 
allotted  to  the  whole  race  of  Sheridan.  I find  her  very  earliest  poetical  work,  TheSyl- 
phid  Queen,’’  thus  spoken  of  in  a letter  from  the  second  Mrs.  Sheridan  to  her  mother,  Mrs. 
Lefanu: — “I  should  have  acknowledged  your  very  welcome  present  immediately,  had 
not  Mr.  Sheridan,  on  my  telling  him  what  it  was,  run  off  with  it,  and  I have  been  in  vain 
endeavoring  to  get  it  from  him  ever  since.  What  little  I did  read  of  it,  I admired  partic- 
ularly ; but  it  will  be  much  more  gratifying  to  you  and  }mur  daughter  to  hear  that  he 
read  it  with  tbs  greatest  attention,  and  tin  ght  it  showed  a great  deal  of  irnaginaliou.” 


134 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


subject  so  interesting  to  you,  and  to  all  that  have  the  happiness  of  knowing 
dear  Mrs.  Sheridan  ; though  I am  sorry  to  add,  it  cannot  be  such  as  will 
relieve  your  anxiety,  or  abate  your  fears.  The  truth  is,  our  poor  friend  is 
in  a most  precarious  state  of  health,  and  quite  given  over  by  the  faculty. 
Her  physician  here,  who  is  esteemed  very  skilful  in  consumptive  cases,  as- 
sured me  ft’om  the  first  that  it  was  a lost  case  ; but  as  your  brother  seemed 
unwilling  to  know  the  truth,  he  was  not  so  explicit  with  him,  and  only  re- 
presented her  as  being  in  a very  critical  situation.  Poor  man  ! he  cannot 
bear  to  think  her  in  danger  himself,  or  that  any  one  else  should  ; though  he 
is  as  attentive  and  watchful  as  if  he  expected  every  moment  to  be  her  last. 
It  is  impossible  for  any  man  to  behave  with  greater  tenderness,  or  to  feel 
more  on  such  an  occasion,  than  he  does. 

* * * 4:  * * 4:  * * 

“ At  times  the  dear  creature  suffers  a great  deal  from  weakness,  and 
want  of  rest.  She  is  very  patient  under  her  sufferings,  and  perfectly  re- 
signed. She  is  well  aware  of  her  danger,  and  talks  of  dying  with  the  great- 
est composure.  I am  sure  it  will  give  you  and  Mr.  Lefanu  pleasure  to 
know  that  her  mind  is  well  prepared  for  any  change  that  may  happen,  and 
that  she  derives  every  comfort  from  religion  that  a sincere  Christian  can 
look  for.’’ 

On  the  28th  of  the  same  month  Mrs.  Sheridan  died ; and  a 
letter  from  this  lady,  dated  July  19th,  thus  touchingly  describes 
her  last  moments.  As  a companion-picture  to  the  close  of  She- 
ridan’s own  life,  it  completes  a lesson  of  the  transitoriness  of  this 
world,  which  might  sadden  the  hearts  of  the  beautiful  and  gifted, 
even  in  their  most  brilliant  and  triumphant  hours.  Far  happier, 
however,  in  her  death  than  he  was,  she  had  not  only  his  affec- 
tionate voice  to  soothe  her  to  the  last,  but  she  had  one  devoted 
friend,  out  of  the  many  whom  she  had  charmed  and  fascinated,  to 
watch  consolingly  over  her  last  struggle,  and  satisfy  her  as  to  the 
fate  of  the  beloved  objects  which  she  left  behind. 


^^July  19,  1792. 

Our  dear  departed  friend  kept  her  bed  only  two  days,  and  seemed  to 
suffer  less  during  that  interval  than  for  some  time  before.  She  was  per- 
fectly in  her  senses  to  the  last  moment,  and  talked  with  the  greatest  com- 
posure of  her  approaching  dissolution  ; assuring  us  all  that  she  had  the 
most  perfect  confidence  in  the  mercies  of  an  all-powerful  and  merciful  Be- 
ing, from  whom  alone  she  could  have  derived  the  inward  comfort  and  sup- 
port she  felt  at  that  awful  moment ! She  said,  she  had  no  fear  of  death, 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  136 


and  that  all  her  concern  arose  from  the  thoughts  of  leaving  so  many  dear 
and  tender  ties,  and  of  what  they  would  suffer  from  her  loss.  Her  own 
family  were  at  Bath,  and  had  spent  one  day  with  her,  when  she  was  toler- 
ably well.  Your  poor  brother  now  thought  it  proper  to  send  for  them,  and 
to  flatter  them  no  longer.  They  immediately  came  ; — it  was  the  morning 
before  she  died.  They  were  introduced  one  at  a time  at  her  bed-side,  and 
were  prepared  as  much  as  possible  for  this  sad  scene.  The  women  bore  it 
very  well,  but  all  our  feelings  were  awakened  for  her  poor  father.  The  in- 
terview between  him  and  the  dear  angel  was  afflicting  and  heart-breaking 
to  the  greatest  degree  imaginable.  I was  afraid  she  would  have  sunk  un- 
der the  cruel  agitation -she  said  it  was  indeed  too  much  for  her.  She 
gave  some  kind  injunction  to  each  of  them,  and  said  everything  she  could 
to  comfort  them  under  this  severe  trial.  They  then  parted,  in  the  hope  of 
seeing  her  again  in  the  evening,  but  they  never  saw  her  more ! Mr.  Sheri- 
dan and  I sat  up  all  that  night  with  her  : — indeed  he  had  done  so  for  sev- 
eral nights  before,  and  never  left  her  one  moment  that  could  be  avoided. 
About  four  o’clock  in  the  morning  we  perceived  an  alarming  change,  and 
sent  for  her  physician.*  She  said  to  him,  ‘ If  you  can  relieve  me,  do  it 
quickly ; — if  not  do  not  let  me  struggle,  but  give  me  some  laudanum.’ 
His  answer  was,  ^ Then  I will  give  you  some  laudanum.’  She  desired  to 
see  Tom  and  Betty  Tickell  before  she  took  it,  of  whom  she  took  a most  af- 
fecting leave  ! Your  brother  behaved  most  wonderfully,  though  his  heart 

* This  physician  was  Dr.  Bain,  then  a very  young  man,  whose  friendship  with  Sheridan 
began  by  this  mournful  duty  to  his  wife,  and  only  ended  vnth  the  performance  of  the 
same  melancholy  office  for  himself.  As  the  writer  of  the  above  letters  was  not  present 
during  the  interview  which  she  describes  between  him  and  Mrs.  Sheridan,  there  are  a few 
slight  errors  in  her  account  of  what  passed,  the  particulars  of  which,  as  related  by  Dr. 
Bain  himself,  are  as  follows  : — On  his  arrival,  »Le  begged  of  Sheridan  and  her  female 
friend  to  leave  the  room,  and  then,  desiring  him  to  lock  the  door  after  them,  said,  “You 
have  never  deceived  me  : — tell  me  truly,  shall  T live  over  this  night.”  Dr.  Bain  imme- 
diately felt  her  pulse,  and,  finding  that  she  was  dying,  answered,  “ I recommend  you  to 
take  sorne  laudanum  upon  which  she  replied,  “ I understand  you  : — then  give  it  me.” 

Dr.  Bain  fully  concurs  with  the  writer  of  these  letters  in  bearing  testimony  to  the  ten- 
derness and  affection  that  Sheridan  evinced  on  this  occasion  : — it  was,  he  says,  quite 
“ the  devotedness  of  a lover.”  The  following  note,  addressed  to  him  after  the  sad  event 
was  over,  does  honor  alike  to  the  writer  and  the  receiver  : — 

“ My  Dear  Sir, 

“ 1 must  request  your  acceptance  of  the  inclosed  for  your  professional  attendance. 
For  the  kind  and  friendly  attentions,  which  have  accompanied  your  efforts,  I must  remain 
your  debtor.  The  recollection  of  them  will  live  in  my  mind  with  the  memory  of  the  dear 
lost  object,  whose  sufferings  you  soothed,  and  whose  heart  was  grateful  for  it. 

“ Believe  me, 

^‘Dear  Sir, 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

^ Friday  nighU  B,  Shhiipm,” 


186 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


was  breaking  ; and  at  times  bis  feelings  were  so  violent,  that  I feared  be 
would  have  been  quite  ungovernable  at  the  last.  Yet  he  summoned  up 
courage  to  kneel  by  the  bed-side,  till  be  felt  the  last  pulse  of  expiring  excel- 
lence, and  then  withdrew.  She  died  at  five  o’clock  in  the  morning,  28tb 
of  June. 

I hope,  my  dear  Mrs.  Lefanu,  you  will  excuse  my  dwelling  on  this  most 
agonizing  scene.  I have  a melancholy  pleasure  in  so  doing,  and  fancy  it 
will  not  be  disagreeable  to  you  to  hear  all  the  particulars  of  an  event  so 
interesting,  so  afflicting,  to  all  who  knew  the  beloved  creature  ! For  my 
part,  I never  beheld  such  a scene — never  suffered  such  a confiict — much  as 
I have  suffered  on  my  own  account.  While  I live,  the  remembrance  of  it 
and  the  dear  lost  object  can  never  be  effaced  from  my  mind. 

We  remained  ten  days  after  the  event  took  place  at  Bristol ; and  on 
the  7 th  instant  Mr.  Sheridan  and  Tom,  accompanied  by  all  her  family  (ex- 
cept Mrs.  Linley),  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leigh,  Betty  Tickell  and  myself,  attended 
the  dear  remains*  to  Wells,  where  we  saw  her  laid  beside  her  beloved  sis- 
ter in  the  Cathedral.  The  choir  attended  ; and  there  was  such  a concourse 
of  people  of  all  sorts  assembled  on  the  occasion  that  we  could  hardly  move 
along.  Mr.  Leigh  read  the  service  in  a most  affecting  manner.  Indeed, 
the  whole  scene,  as  you  may  easily  imagine,  was  awful  and  affecting  to  a 
very  great  degree.  Though  the  crowd  certainly  interrupted  the  solemnity 
very  much,  and,  perhaps,  happily  for  us  abated  somewhat  of  our  feelings, 
which,  had  we  been  less  observed,  would  not  have  been  so  easily  kept 
down. 

The  day  after  the  sad  scene  was  closed  we  separated,  your  brother 
choosing  to  be  left  by  himself  with  Tom  for  a day  or  two.  He  afterwards 
joined  us  at  Bath,  where  we  spent  a few  days  with  our  friends,  the  Leighs. 
Last  Saturday  we  took  leave  of  them,  and  on  Sunday  we  arrived  at  Isle- 
worth,  where  with  much  regret,  I left  your  brother  to  his  own  melancholy 
refiections,  with  no  other  companions  but  his  two  children,  in  whom  he 
seems  at  present  entirely  wrapped  up.  He  suffered  a great  deal  in  return- 
ing the  same  road,  and  was  most  dreadfully  agitated  on  his  arrival  at  Isle- 
worth.  His  grief  is  deep  and  sincere,  and  I am  sure  will  be  lasting.  He 
is  in  very  good  spirits,  and  at  times  is  even  cheerful,  but  the  moment  he  is 
left  alone  he  feels  all  the  anguish  of  sorrow  and  regret.  The  dear  little 
girl  is  the  greatest  comfort  to  him  : — he  cannot  bear  to  be  a moment  with- 
out her.  She  thrives  amazingly,  and  is  indeed  a charming  little  creature. 

* The  following  striking  reflection,  which  I have  found  upon  a scrap  of  paper,  in  Sheri- 
dan’s handwriting,  w’tis  suggested,  no  doubt,  by  his  feelings  on  this  occasion  : — 

“ The  loss  of  the  breath  from  a beloved  object,  long  suffering  in  pain  and  certainly  to 
die,  is  not  so  great  a privation  as  the  last  loss  of  her  beautiful  remains,  if  they  remain 
su.  The  victory  of  the  Grave  is  sharper  than  the  Sting  of  Death.” 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDaN.  187 

Tom  behaves  with  constant  and  tender  attention  to  his  father  : — he  laments 
Ids  dear  mother  sincerely,  and  at  the  time  was  violently  affected  ; — but,  at 
his  age,  the  impressions  of  grief  are  not  lasting  ; and  his  mind  is  naturally 
too  lively  and  cheerful  to  dwell  long  on  melancholy  objects.  He  is  in  all 
respects  truly  amiable,  and  in  many  respects  so  like  his  dear,  charming 
mother,  that  I am  sure  he  will  be  ever  dear  to  my  heart.  I expect  to  have 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  Mr.  Sheridan  again  next  week,  when  I hope  to  find 
him  more  composed  than  when  I took  leave  of  him  last  Sunday.’’ 

To  the  mention  which  is  made,  in  this  affecting  letter,  of  the 
father  of  Mrs.  Sheridan,  whose  destiny  it  had  been  to  follow  to 
the  grave,  within  a few  short  years,  so  many  of  his  accomplished 
children,^  I must  add  a few  sentences  more  from  another  letter 
of  the  same  lady,  which,  while  they  increase  our  interest  in  this 
amiable  and  ingenious  man,  bear  testimony  to  Sheridan’s  attach- 
ing powers,  and  prove  how  affectionate  he  must  have  been  to  her 
who  was  gone,  to  be  thus  loved  by  the  father  to  whom  she  was 
so  dear : — 

• 

Poor  Mr.  Linley  has  been  here  among  us  these  two  months.  He  is  very 
much  broke,  but  is  still  a very  interesting  and  agreeable  companion.  I do 
not  know  any  one  more  to  be  pitied  than  he  is.  It  is  evident  that  the 
recollection  of  past  misfortunes  preys  on  his  mind,  and  he  has  no  comfort 
in  the  surviving  part  of  his  family,  they  being  all  scattered  abroad.  Mr. 
Sheridan  seems  more  his  child  than  any  one  of  his  own,  and  I believe  he 
likes  being  near  him  and  his  grandchildren.”! 


♦ In  1778  his  eldest  son  Thomas  was  drowned,  while  amusing  himself  in  a pleasure- 
boat  at  the  seat  of  the  Duke  of  Ancaster.  The  pretty  lines  of  Mrs.  Sheridan  to  his  violin 
are  well  known.  A few  years  after,  Samuel,  a lieutenant  in  the  navy,  was  carried  off 
by  a fever.  Miss  Maria  Linley  died  in  1785,  and  Mrs.  Tickell  in  1787. 

I have  erroneously  stated,  in  a former  part  of  this  work,  that  Mr.  William  Linley  is  the 
only  surviving  branch  of  this  famuly  ; — there  is  another  brother,  Mr.  Ozias  Linley,  si’il 
living. 

t In  the  Memoirs  of  Mrs.  Crouch  I find  the  following  anecdote  “ Poor  Mr.  Linley  ! 
after  the  death  of  one  of  his  sons,  when  seated  at  the  harpsichord  in  Drury-Lane  theatre, 
in  order  to  accompany  the  vocal  parts  of  an  interesting  little  piece  taken  from  Prior’s 
Henry  and  Emma,  by  Mr.  Tickell,  and  excellently  represented  by  Palmer  and  Miss  Far- 
ren, — when  the  tutor  of  Henry,  Mr.  Aikin,  gave  an  impressive  description  of  a promising 
young  man,  in  speaking  of  his  pupil  Henry,  the  feelings  of  Mr.  Linley  could  not  be  sup- 
pressed. His  tears  fell  fast — nor  did  he  weep  alone.” 

In  the  same  work  Mrs.  Crouch  is  made  to  say  that,  after  Miss  Maria  Linley  died,  it  was 
melancholy  for  her  to  sing  to  Mr.  Linley,  whose  tears  continually  fell  on  the  keys  as  he  ac- 
companied her  ; and  if,  in  the  course  of  her  profession,  she  was  obliged  to  practise  a 


138 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Towards  the  autumn,  (as  we  learn  from  another  letter  of  this 
lady,)  Mr.  Sheridan  endeavored  to  form  a domestic  establish- 
ment for  himself  at  Wanstead. 


Wanstead,  October  22,  1792. 

Your  brother  has  taken  a house  in  this  village  very  near  me,  where  he 
means  to  place  his  dear  little  girl  to  be  as  much  as  possible  under  my  pro- 
tection. This  was  the  dying  request,  of  my  beloved  friend  ; and  the  last 
effort  of  her  mind  and  pen*  was  mad  ? the  day  before  she  expired,  to  draw 
up  a solemn  promise  for  both  of  us  to  sign,  to  ensure  the  strict  perform- 
ance of  this  last  awful  injunction  : so  anxious  was  she  to  commit  this  dear 
treasure  to  my  care,  well  knowing  how  impossible  it  would  be  for  a father, 
situated  as  your  brother  is,  to  pay  that  constant  attention  to  her  which  a 
daughter  so  particularly  requires.  * * * You  may  be  assured  I shall 

engage  in  the  task  with  the  greatest  delight  and  alacrity  : — would  to  God 
that  I were  in  the  smallest  degree  qualified  to  supply  the  place  of  that  an- 
gelic, all-accomplished  mother,  of  whose  tender  care  she  has  been  so  early- 
deprived.  All  I can  do  for  her  I will  do  ; and  if  I can  succeed  so  far  as  to 
give  her  early  and  steady  principles  of  religion,  and  to  form  her  mind  to 
virtue,  I shall  think  my  time  well  employed,  and  shall  feel  myself  happy 
in  having  fulfilled,  the  first  wish  of  her  beloved  mother’s  heart. 

To  return  to  your  brother,  he  talks  of  having  his  house  here  immediately 

song  which  ne  had  been  accustomed  to  hear  his  lost  daughter  sing,  the  similarity 
of  their  manners  and  their  voices,  which  he  had  once  remarked  with  pleasure,  then  af- 
fected him  to  such  a degree,  that  he  was  frequently  forced  to  quit  the  instrument  and 
walk  about  the  room  to  recover  his  composure. 

* There  are  some  touching  allusions  to  these  last  thoughts  of  Mrs.  Sheridan,  in  an 
Elegy,  written  by  her  brother,  Mr.  William  Linley,  soon  after  the  news  of  the  sad  event 
Teached  him  in  India  : — 

“ Oh  most  beloved  ! my  sister  and  my  friend  i 

While  kindred  woes  still  breathe  around  thine  urn. 

Long  with  the  tear  of  absence  must  I blend 
The  sigh,  that  speaks  thou  never  shalt  return. 

* « 4:  « * * 

f‘  ’Twas  Faith,  that,  bending  o’er  the  bed  of  death, 

Shot  o’er  thy  pallid  cheek  a transient  ray, 

With  softer  effort  soothed  thy  laboring  breath. 

Gave  grace  to  anguish,  beauty  to  decay. 

“ Thy  friends,  thy  children,  claim’d  thy  latest  care  , 

Theirs  was  the  last  that  to  thy  lx)som  clunj, ; 

For  them  to  heaven  thou  sent’st  the  expiring  prayer, 

The  last  that  falter’d  on  thy  irerahling  tongue.” 


EIGHT  HON.  RICHAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  139 


fiirnished  and  made  ready  for  the  reception  of  his  nursery.  It  is  a very 
good  sort  of  common  house,  with  an  excellent  garden,  roomy  and  fit  for  the 
purpose,  but  will  admit  of  no  show  or  expense.  I understand  he  has  taken 
a house  in  Jermyn-street,  where  he  may  see  conpany,  but  he  does  not  in- 
tend having  any  other  country-house  but  this.  Isleworth  he  gives  up,  his 
time  being  expired  there.  I believe  he  has  got  a private  tutor  for  Tom — 
somebody  very  much  to  his  mind.  At  one  time  he  talked  of  sending  him 
abroad  with  this  gentleman,  but  I know  not  at  pfi^sent  what  his  determina- 
tions are.  He  is  too  fond  of  Tom’s  society  to  let  him  go  from  him  for  any 
time  ; but  I think  it  would  be  more  to  his  advantage  if  he  would  consent 
to  part  with  him  for  two  or  three  years.  It  is  impossible  for  any  man  to  be 
more  devotedly  attached  to  his  children  than  he  is,  and  I hope  they  will  be 
a comfort  and  a blessing  to  him,  when  the  world  loses  its  charms.  The  last 
time  I saw  him,  which  was  for  about  five  minutes,  I thought  he  looked  re- 
markably well,  and  seemed  tolerably  cheerful.  But  I have  observed  in  gen- 
eral that  this  affliction  has  made  a wonderful  alteration  in  the  expression 
of  his  countenance  and  in  his  manners.*  The  Leighs  and  my  family  spent  a 
week  with  him  at  Isleworth  the  beginning  of  August,  where  we  were  in- 
deed most  affectionately  and  hospitably  entertained.  I could  hardly  believe 
him  to  be  the  same  man.  In  fact,  we  never  saw  him  do  the  honors  of  his 
house  before  ; that,  you  know,  he  always  left  the  dear,  elegant  creature, 
who  never  failed  to  please  and  charm  every  one  who  came  within  the  sphere 
of  her  notice.  Nobody  could  have  filled  her  place  so  well : — he  seemed  to 
have  pleasure  in  making  much  of  those  whom  she  loved,  and  who,  he  knew, 
sincerely  loved  her.  We  all  thought  he  never  appeared  to  such  advantage. 
He  was  attentive  to  every  body  and  every  thing,  though  grave  and  thought- 
ful ; and  his  feelings,  poor  fellow,  often  ready  to  break  forth  in  spite  of  his 
efforts  to  suppress  them.  He  spent  his  evenings  mostly  by  himself.  He  de- 
sired me,  when  I wrote,  to  let  you  know  that  she  had  by  will  made  a little 
distribution  of  what  she  called  • her  own  property,’  and  had  left  you  and 
your  sister  rings  of  remembrance,  and  her  fausse  montre,  containing  Mr. 
Sheridan’s  picture  to  you,f — Mrs.  Joseph  Lefanu  having  got  hers.  She  left 
rings  also  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leigh,  my  sister,  daughter,  and  myself,  and  posi- 
tively forbids  any  others  being  given  on  any  pretence,  but  these  I have 
specified, — evidently  precluding  all  her  fine  friends  from  this  last  mark  of 
her  esteem  and  approbation.  She  had,  poor  thing,  with  some  justice,  turn- 

* I have  heard  a Noble  friend  of  Sheridan  say  that,  happening  about  this  time  to  sleep 
in  the  room  next  to  him,  he  could  plainly  hear  him  sobbing  throughout  the  greater  part 
of  the  night. 

f This  bequest  is  thus  announced  by  Sheridan  himself  in  a letter  to  his  sister,  dated 
June  3,  1794  : — “ I mean  also  to  send  by  Miss  Patrick  a picture  which  has  long  been  your 
property,  by  a bequest  from  one  whose  image  i§  not  often  from  my  mind,  and  whose 
memory,  I am  sure,  remains  in  yours  ” 


140 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


ed  from  them  all  in  disgust,  and  I observed,  during  her  illness,  never  men- 
tioned any  of  them  with  regard  or  kindness,’’ 

The  consolation  which  Sheridan  derived  from  his  little  daugh- 
ter was  not  long  spared  to  him.  In  a letter,  without  a date,  from 
the  same  amiable  writer,  the  following  account  of  her  death  is 
given : — 

The  circumstances  attending  this  melancholy  event  were  particularly 
distressing.  A large  party  of  young  people  were  assembled  at  your  broth- 
er’s to  spend  a joyous  evening  in  dancing.  We  were  all  in  the  height  of 
our  merriment, — he  himself  remarkably  cheerful,  and  partaking  of  the 
amusement,  when  the  alarm  was  given  that  the  dear  little  angel  was  dying. 
It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  confusion  and  horror  of  the  scene : — he  was 
quite  frantic,  and  I knew  not  what  to  do.  Happily  there  v/ere  present 
several  kind,  good-natured  men,  who  had  their  recollection,  and  pointed 
out  what  should  be  done.  We  very  soon  had  every  possible  assistance,  and 
for  a short  time  we  had  some  hope  that  her  precious  life  would  have  been 
spared  to  us — but  that  was  soon  at  an  end ! 

The  dear  babe  never  throve  to  my  satisfaction  : — she  was  small  and 
delicate  beyond  imagination,  and  gave  very  little  expectation  of  long  life  ; 
but  she  had  visibly  declined  during  the  last  month.  * * * Mr.  Sheridan 
made  himself  very  miserable  at  first,  from  an  apprehension  that  she  had 
been  neglected  or  mismanaged  ; but  I trust  he  is  perfectly  convinced  that 
this  was  not  the  case.  He  was  severely  afflicted  at  first.  The  dear  babe’s 
resemblance  to  her  mother  after  her  death  was  so  much  more  striking,  that 
it  was  impossible  to  see  her  without  recalling  every  circumstance  of  that 
afflicting  scene,  and  he  was  continually  in  the  room  indulging  the  sad  re- 
membrance. In  this  manner  he  indulged  his  feelings  for  four  or  five  days  j 
then,  having  indispensable  business,  he  was  obliged  to  go  to  London,  from 
whence  he  returned,  on  Sunday,  apparently  in  good  spirits  and  as  well  as 
usual.  BuL  however  he  may  assume  the  appearance  of  ease  or  cheerful- 
ness, his  heart  is  not  of  a nature  to  be  quickly  reconciled  to  the  loss  of  any 
thing  he  loves.  He  suffers  deeply  and  secretly  ; and  I dare  say  he  will 
long  and  bitterly  lament  both  mother  and  child.” 

The  reader  will,  I think,  feel  with  me,  after  reading  the  fore- 
going letters,  as  well  as  those  of  Mrs.  Sheridan,  given  in  the 
course  of  this  work,  that  the  impression  which  they  altogether 
leave  on  the  mind  is  in  the  highest  degree  favorable  to  the  char- 
acters both  of  husband  and  wife.  There  is,  round  the  w'hole. 


KiGHT  HON,  RiCHARb  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  141 


au  atmosphere  of  kindly,  domestic  feeling,  which  seems  to  answer 
for  the  soundness  of  the  hearts  that  breathed  in  it.  The  sen- 
sibility, too,  displayed  by  Sheridan  at  this  period,  was  not  that 
sort  of  passionate  return  to  former  feelings,  which  the  prospect 
of  losing  what  it  once  loved  might  awaken  in  even  the  most 
alienated  heart ; — on  the  contrary,  there  was  a depth  and  mellow- 
ness in  his  sorrow  which  could  proceed  from  long  habits  of  affec- 
tion alone.  The  idea,  indeed,  of  seeking  solace  for  the  loss  of  the 
mother  in  the  endearments  of  the  children  would  occur  only  to 
one  who  had  been  accustomed  to  find  happiness  in  his  home,  and 
who  therefore  clung  for  comfort  to  what  remained  of  the  wreck. 

Such,  I have  little  doubt,  were  the  natural  feelings  and  dis- 
positions of  Sheridan ; and  if  the  vanity  of  talent  too  often  turned 
him  aside  from  their  influence,  it  is  but  another  proof  of  the  dan- 
ger of  that  “ light  which  leads  astray,”  and  may  console  those  who, 
safe  under  the  shadow  of  mediocrity,  are  unvisited  by  such  dis 
turbing  splendors. 

The  following  letters  on  this  occasion,  from  his  eldest  sister 
and  her  husband,  are  a further  proof  of  the  warm  attachment 
which  he  inspired  in  those  connected  with  him  : — 

My  dearest  Brother, 

Charles  has  just  informed  me  that  the  fatal,  the  dreaded  event  has 
taken  place.  On  my  knees  I implore  the  Almighty  to  look  down  upon 
you  in  your  affliction,  to  strengthen  your  noble,  your  feeling  heart  to  bear 
it.  Oh  my  beloved  brother,  these  are  sad,  sad  trials  of  fortitude.  One 
consolation,  at  least,  in  mitigation  of  your  sorrow,  I am  sure  you  possess, 
— the  consciousness  of  having  done  all  you  could  to  preserve  the  dear  angel 
you  have  lost,  and  to  soften  the  last  painful  days  of  her  mortal  existence. 
Mrs.  Canning  wrote  to  me  that  she  was  in  a resigned  and  happy  frame  of 
mind  : she  is  assuredly  among  the  blest ; and  I feel  and  I think  she  looks 
down  with  benignity  at  my  feeble  efforts  to  soothe  that  anguish  I parti- 
cipate. Let  me  then  conjure  you,  my  dear  brother,  to  suffer  me  to  en- 
deavor to  be  of  use  to  you.  Could  I have  done  it,  I should  have  been  with 
yoa  from  the  time  of  your  arrival  at  Bristol.  The  impossibility  of  my 
gx^ng  has  made  me  miserable,  and  injured  my  health,  already  in  a very  bad 
btate.  It  would  give  value  to  my  life,  could  I be  of  that  service  I think  I 
jixght  be  of,  if  I were  near  you ; and  as  I cannot  go  to  you,  and  as  there 
Is  every  reason  for  your  quitting  the  scene  and  objects  before  you,  perhaps 


142 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


you  may  let  us  have  the  happiness  of  having  you  here,  and  my  dear  Tom  ; 
I will  write  to  him  when  my  spirits  are  quieter.  I entreat  you,  my  dear 
brother,  try  what  change  of  place  can  do  for  you : your  character  and  ta- 
lents are  here  held  in  the  highest  estimation ; and  you  have  here  some 
who  love  you  beyond  the  affection  any  in  England  can  feel  for  you. 

Cuff-Street,  ^th  July,  A.  Lefanu.’’ 

My  dear  good  Sir,  Wednesday,  Uh  July,  1792. 

Permit  me  to  join  my  entreaties  to  Lissy’s  to  persuade  you  to  come 
over  to  us.  A journey  might  be  of  service  to  you,  and  change  of  objects  a 
real  relief  to  your  mind.  We  would  try  every  thing  to  divert  your 
thoughts  from  too  intensely  dwelling  on  certain  recollections,  which  are 
yet  too  keen  and  too  fresh  to  be  entertained  with  safety, — at  least  to  occupy 
you  too  entirely.  Having  been  so  long  separated  from  your  sister,  you  can 
hardly  have  an  adequate  idea  of  her  love  for  you.  I,  who  on  many  occa- 
sions have  observed  its  operation,  can  truly  and  solemnly  assure  you  that 
it  far  exceeds  any  thing  I could  ever  have  supposed  to  have  been  felt  by 
a sister  towards  a brother.  I am  convinced  you  would  experience  such 
soothing  in  her  company  and  conversation  as  would  restore  you  to  your- 
self sooner  than  any  thing  that  could  be  imagined.  Come,  then,  my  dear 
Sir,  and  be  satisfied  you  will  add  greatly  to  her  comfort,  and  to  that  of 
your  very  affectionate  friend,  J.  Lefamj.’’ 


lUGHT  HON.  KICHAED  BEINgLElT  gHERIDAN.  l4S 


OHAPTEE  VI 

DRUEY-LANE  THEATRE. — SOCIETY  OF  ‘‘  THE  FRIENDS 
OF  THE  PEOPLE.” — MADAME  DE  GENLIS. — WAR  WITH 
FRANCE. — WHIG  SECEDERS. — SPEECHES  IN  PARLIA- 
MENT.— DEATH  OF  TICKELL. 

The  domestic  anxieties  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  during  this  year, 
left  but  little  room  in  his  mind  for  public  cares.  Accordingly, 
we  find  that,  after  the  month  of  April,  he  absented  himself  from 
the  House  of  Commons  altogether.  In  addition  to  his  appre- 
hensions for  the  safety  of  Mrs.  Sheridan,  he  had  been  for  some 
time  harassed  by  the  derangement  of  his  theatrical  property, 
which  was  now  fast  falling  into  a state  of  arrear  and  involvement, 
from  which  it  never  after  entirely  recovered. 

The  Theatre  of  Drury-Lane  having  been,  in  the  precedmg 
year,  reported  by  the  surveyors  to  be  unsafe  and  incapable  of 
repair,  it  was  determined  to  erect  an  entirely  new  house  upon 
the  same  site ; -for  the  accomplishment  of  which  purpose  a pro- 
posal was  made,  by  Mr.  Sheridan  and  Mr.  Linley,  to  raise  the 
sum  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds,  by  the  means  of 
three  hundred  debentures,  of  five  hundred  pounds  each.  This 
part  of  the  scheme  succeeded  instantly ; and  I have  now  before 
me  a list  of  the  holders  of  the  300  shares,  appended  to  the 
proposal  of  1791,  at  the  head  of  which  the  names  of  the  three 
Trustees,  on  whom  the  Theatre  was  afterwards  vested  in  the 
year  1793,  stand  for  the  following  number  of  shares : — Albany 
Wallis,  20;  Hammersley,  50;  Richard  Ford,  20.  But,  though 
the  money  was  raised  without  any  difficulty,  the  completion  of 
the  new  building  was  delayed  by  various  negotiations  and  ob- 
stacles, while,  in  the  mean  time,  the  company  were  playing,  at  an 
enormous  expense,  first  in  the  Opera-House,  and  afterwards  at 
the  Haymarket-Theatre,  and  Mr.  Sheridan  and  Mr.  Linley  were 
paying  interest  for  the  first  instalment  of  the  loan.  * 


144 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  'ME 


To  these  and  other  causes  of  the  increasing  embarrassments  ot 
Sheridan  is  to  be  added  the  extravagance  of  his  own  style  of 
living,  which  became  much  more  careless  and  profuse  after  death 
had  deprived  him  of  her,  whose  maternal  thoughtfulness  alone 
would  have  been  a check  upon  such  improvident  waste.  We 
are  enabled  to  form  some  idea  of  his  expensive  Jiabits,  by  find- 
ing, from  the  letters  which  have  just  been  quoted,  that  he  was,  at 
the  same  time,  maintaining’ three  establishments, — one  at  Wan- 
stead,  where  his  son  resided  with  his  tutor;  another  at  Isleworth, 
which  he  still  held,  (as  I learn  from  letters  directed  to  him  there,) 
in  1793  ; and  the  third,  his  town-house,  in  Jermyn-StreQt.  Rich 
and  ready  as  w^ere  the  resources  which  the  Treasury  of  the  theatre 
opened  to  him,  and  fertile  as  was  his  own  invention  in  devising 
new  schemes  of  finance,  such  mismanaged  expenditure  would  ex- 
haust even  his  magic  wealth,  and  the  lamp  must  cease  to  answer 
to  the  rubbing  at  last. 

The  tutor,  whom  he  was  lucky  enough  to  obtain  for  his  son  at 
this  time,  was  Mr.  William  Smythe,  a gentleman  who  has  since  dis- 
tinguished himself  by  his  classical  attainments  and  graceful  talent 
for  poetry.  Young  Sheridan  had  previously  been  under  the  care  of 
Dr.  Parr,  with  whom  he  resided  a considerable  time  at  Hatton ; 
and  the  friendship  of  this  learned  man  for  the  father  could  not 
have  been  more  strongly  shown  than  in  the  disinterestedness  with 
which  he  devoted  himself  to  the  education  of  the  son.  The  fol- 
lowing letter  from  him  to  Mr.  Sheridan,  in  the  May  of  this  year, 
proves  the  kind  feeling  by  which  he  was  actuated  towards  him : — 

“ Dear  Sir, 

“ I hope  Tom  got  home  safe,  and  found  you  in  better  spirits. 
He  said  something  about  drawing  on  your  banker ; but  I do  not 
understand  the  process,  and  shall  not  take  any  step.  You  will 
consult  your  own  convenience  about  these  things ; for  my  con- 
nection with  you  is  that  of  friendship  and  personal  regard.  I 
feel  and  remember  slights  from  those  I respect,  but  acts  of  kind- 
ness I cannot  forget ; and,  though  my  life  has  been  passed  far 
more  in  doing  than  receiving  services,  yet  1 know  and  I value  the 


KIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEV^  SHERIDAN.  145 

good  dispositions  of  yourself  and  a few  other  friends, — men  who 
are  worthy  of  that  name  from  me. 

“ If  you  choose  Tom  to  return,  he  knows  and  you  know  how 
glad  I am  always  to  see  him.  If  not,  pray  let  him  do  something, 
and  I will  tell  you  what  he  should  do. 

“ Believe  me,  dear  Sir, 

‘‘  Yours  sincerely, 

“S.  Parr.” 

In  the  spring  of  this  year  was  established  the  Society  of  “ The 
Friends  of  the  People,”  for  the  express  purpose  of  obtaining  a 
Parliamentary  Reform.  To  this  Association,  which,  less  for  its 
professed  object  than  for  the  republican  tendencies  of  some  of 
its  members,  was  particularly  obnoxious  to  the  loyalists  of  the 
day,  Mr.  Sheridan,  Mr.  Grey,  and  many  others  of  the  leading 
persons  of  the  Whig  party,  belonged.  Their  Address  to  the 
People  of  England,  which  was  put  forth  in  the  month  of  April, 
contained  an  able  and  temperate  exposition  of  the  grounds  upon 
which  they  sought  for  Reform;  and  the  names  of  Sheridan,  ^ 
Mackintosh,  Whitbread,  &c.,  appear  on  the  list  of  the  Committee 
by  which  this  paper  was  drawn  up. 

It  is  a proof  of  the  little  zeal  which  Mr.  Fox  felt  at  this  pe- 
riod on  the  subject  of  Reform,  that  he  withheld  the  sanction  of 
his  name  from  a Society,  to  which  so  many  of  his  most  intimate 
political  friends  belonged.  Some  notice  was,  indeed,  taken  in  the 
House  of  this  symptom  of  backwardness  in  the  cause;  and 
Sheridan,  in  replying  to  the  insinuation,  said  that  “ they  wanted 
not  the  signature  of  his  Right  Honorable  friend  to  assure  them 
of  his  concurrence.  They  had  his  bond  in  the  steadiness  of  his 
political  principles  and  the  integrity  of  his  heart.”  Mr.  Fox 
himself,  however,  gave  a more  definite  explanation  of  the  cir- 
cumstance. “ He  might  be  asked,”  he  said,  “ why  his  name  was 
not  on  the  list  of  the  Society  for  Reform  ] His  reason  was,  that 
though  he  saw  great  and  enormous  grievances,  he  did  not  see  the 
remedy.”  It  is  to  be  doubted,  indeed,  whether  Mr.  Fox  ever  fully 
admitted  the  principle  upon  which  the  demand  for  a Reform  was 


1^6 


MEMOIRS  OP  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


founded.  When  he  afterwards  espoused  the  question  so  warmly, 
it  seems  to  have  been  merely  as  one  of  those  weapons  caught  up 
m the  heat  of  a warfare,  in  which  Liberty  itself  appeared  to  him 
too  imminently  endangered  to  admit  of  the  consideration  of  any 
abstract  principle,  except  that  summary  one  of  the  right  of  resist- 
ance to  power  abused.  From  what  has  been  already  said,  too, 
of  the  language  held  by  Sheridan  on  this  subject,  it  may  be  con- 
cluded that,  though  far  more  ready  than  his  friend  to  inscribe 
Reform  upon  the  banner  of  the  party,  he  had  even  still  less 
made  up  his  mind  as  to  the  practicability  or  expediency  of  the 
measure.  Looking  upon  it  as  a question,  the  agitation  of  which 
was  useful  to  Liberty,  and  at  the  same  time  counting  upon  the 
improbability  of  its  obj  3cts  being  ever  accomplished,  he  adopted 
at  once,  as  we  have  seen,  the  most  speculative  of  all  the  plans 
that  had  been  proposed,  and  flattered  himself  that  he  thus  secured 
the  benefit  of  the  general  principle,  without  risking  the  incon- 
venience of  any  of  the  practical  details. 

The  following  extract  of  a letter  from  Sheridan  to  one  of  his 
female  correspondents,  at  this  time,  will  show  that  he  did  not 
quite  approve  the  policy  of  Mr.  F ox  in  holding  aloof  from  the 
Reformers : — 

I am  dovn'i  here  with  Mrs.  Canning  and  her  family,  while  all 
my  friends  and  party  are  meeting  in  town,  where  I have  excused 
myself-  to  lay  their  wise  heads  together  in  this  crisis.  Again  I 
say  there  is  nothing  but  what  is  unpleasant  before  my  mind.  I 
wish  to  occupy  and  fill  my  thoughts  with  public  matters,  and  to 
do  justice  to  the  times,  they  afford  materials  enough ; but  nothing 
is  in  prospect  to  make  activity  pleasant,  or  to  point  one’s  efforts 
against  one  common  enemy,  making  all  that  engage  in  the  attack 
cordial,  social,  and  united.  On  the  contrary,  every  day  produces 
some  new  schism  and  absurdity.  Windham  has  signed  a non- 
sensical association  with  Lord  Mulgrave ; and  when  I left  town 
yesterday,  I was  informed  that  the  Divan^  as  the  meeting  at 
Debrett’s  is  called,  were  furious  at  an  authentic  advertisement 
from  the  Duke  of  Portland  against  Charles  Fox’s  speech  in  the 


EIGHT  HOH.  EICHARD  BE-IHSLEY  SHKRlDAISr.  14:7 


Whig  Club,  which  no  one  before  believed  to  be  genuine,  but 
which  they  now  say  Dr.  Lawrence  brought  from  Burlington- 
House.  If  this  is  so,  depend  on  it  there  will  be  a direct  breach 
in  w^hat  has  been  called  the  Whig  Party.  Charles  Fox  must 
come  to  the  Reformers  openly  and  avowedly  ; and  in  a month 
four-fifths  of  the  Whig  Club  will  do  the  same.” 

The  motion  for  the  Abolition  of  the  Slave-trade,  brought  for- 
ward this  year  by  Mr.  Wilberforce,  (on  whose  brows  it  may  be 
said,  with  much  more  truth  than  of  the  Roman  General,  “ Annexuit 
Africa  Zawros,”)  was  signalized  by  one  of  the  most  splendid  orations 
that  the  lofty  eloquence  of  Mr.  Pitt  ever  poured  forth."^  I men- 
tion the  Debate,  however,  for  the  mere  purpose  of  remarking, 
as  a singularity,  that,  often  as  this  great  question  was  discussed 
in  Parliament,  and  ample  as  was  the  scope  which  it  afforded  for 
the  grander  appeals  of  oratory,  Mr.  Sheridan  was  upon  no  occa- 
sion tempted  to  utter  even  a syllable  on  the  subject, — except  once 
for  a few  minutes,  in  the  year  1787,  upon  some  point  relating  to 
the  attendance  of  a witness.  The  two  or  three  sentences,  how- 
ever, which  he  did  speak  on  that  occasion  were  sufficient  to  prove, 
(what,  as  he  was  not  a W est-India  proprietor,  no  one  can  doubt,) 
that  the  sentiments  entertained  by  him  on  this  interesting  topic 
.were,  to  the  full  extent,  those  which  actuated  not  only  his  own 
party,  but  every  real  lover  of  justice  and  humanity  throughout 
the  world.  To  use  a quotation  which  he  himself  applied  to  ano- 
ther branch  of  the  question  in  1807  : — 

I would  not  have  a slave  to  till  my  ground, 

To  fan  me  when  I sleep,  and  tremble  when 
I wake,  for  all  that  human  sinews,  bought 
And  sold,  have  ever  earned.’ ^ 


♦ It  was  at  the  conclusion  of  this  speech  that,  in  contemplating  the  period  when  Africa 
would,  he  hoped,  participate  in  those  blessings  of  civilization  and  knowledge  which 
were  now  enjoyed  by  more  fortunate  regions,  he  applied  the  happy  quotation,  rendered 
still  more  striking,  it  is  said,  by  the  circumstance  of  the  rising  sun  just  then  shining  m 
through  the  windows  of  the  House  : — 

Nos primus  equis  Oriens  afflavit  cmheliSy 

Illic  sera  rvhens  accendit  lumina  Vesper 


148 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


The  National  Convention  having  lately,  in  the  first  paroxysm 
of  their  republican  vanity,  conferred  the  honor  of  Citizenship 
upon  several  distinguished  Englishmen,  and,  among  others,  up- 
on Mr.  Wilberforce  and  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  it  was  intended, 
as  appears  by  the  following  letter  from  Mr.  Stone,  (a  gentleman 
subsequently  brought  into  notice  by  the  trial  of  his  brother  for 
High  Treason,)  to  invest  Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Sheridan  with  the 
same  distinction,  had  not  the  prudent  interference  of  Mr. 
Stone  saved  them  from  this  very  questionable  honor. 

The  following  is  the  letter  which  this  gentleman  addressed  to 
Sheridan  on  the  occasion. 

“Pam,  Nov.  18,  Tear  1,  of  the  French  Eepublic. 

“Dear  Sir, 

“ I have  taken  a liberty  with  your  name,  of  which  I ought  to 
give  you  notice,  and  offer  some  apology.  The  Convention  hav- 
ing lately  enlarged  their  connections  in  Europe,  are  ambitious 
of  adding  to  the  number  of  their  friends  by  bestowing  some  mark 
of  distinction  on  those  who  have  stood  forth  in  support  of  their 
cause,  when  its  fate  hung  doubtful.  The  French  conceive  that 
they  owe  this  obligation  very  eminently  to  you  and  Mr.  Fox; 
and,  to  show  their  gratitude,  the  Committee  appointed  to  make 
the  Eeport  has  determined  to  offer  you  to  and  Mr.  Fox  the  honor 
of  Citizenship.  Had  this  honor  never  been  conferred  before, 
had  it  been  conferred  only  on  worthy  members  of  society,  or 
were  you  and  Mr.  Fox  only  to  be  named  at  this  moment,  I 
should  not  have  interfered.  But  as  they  have  given  the  title  to 
obscure  and  vulgar  men  and  scoundrels,  of  which  they  are  now 
very  much  ashamed  themselves,  I have  presumed  to  suppose 
that  you  would  think  yourself  much  more  honored  in  the 
breach  than  the  observance,  and  have  therefore  caused  your 
nomination  to  be  suspended.  But  1 was  influenced  in  this  also 
by  other  considerations,  of  which  one  was,  that,  though  the 
Committee  would  be  more  careful  in  their  selection  than  the  last 
had  been,  yet  it  was  probable  you  would  not  like  to  share  the 
honors  with  such  as  would  be  chosen.  But  another  more  im- 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN. 


149 


portant  one  that  weighed  with  me  was,  that  this  new  character 
would  not  be  a small  embarrassment  in  the  route  which  you  have 
to  take  the  next  Session  of  Parliament,  when  the  affairs  of 
France  must  necessarily  be  often  the  subject  of  discussion.  Ko 
one  will  suspect  Mr.  Wilberforce  of  being  seduced,  and  no  one 
has  thought  that  he  did  any  thing  to  render  him  liable  to  seduc- 
tion ; as  his  superstition  and  devotedness  to  Mr.  Pitt  have  kept 
him  perfectly  a Vdbri  from  all  temptations  to  err  on  the  side  of 
liberty,  civil  or  religious.  But  to  you  and  Mr.  Fox  the  reproach 
will  constantly  be  made,  and  the  blockheads  and  knaves  in  the 
House  will  always  have  the  means  of  influencing  the  opinions  of 
those  without,  by  opposing  with  success  your  English  character 
to  your  French  one  ; and  that  which  is  only  a mark  of  gratitude 
for  past  services  will  be  construed  by  malignity  into  a bribe  of 
some  sort  for  services  yet  to  be  rendered.  You  may  be  certain 
that,  in  offering  the  reasons  for  my  conduct,!  blush  that  I think 
it  necessary  to  stoop  to  such  prejudices.  Of  this,  however,  you 
will  be  the  best  judge,  and  I should  esteem  it  a favor  if  you 
would  inform  me  whether  I have  done  right,  or  whether  I shall 
suffer  your  names  to  stand  as  they  did  before  my  interference. 
There  will  be  suflicient  time  for  me  to  receive  your  answer,  as  I 
have  prevailed  on  the  Reporter,  M.  Brissot,  to  delay  a few  days. 
I have  given  him  my  reasons  for  wishing  the  suspension,  to  which 
he  has  assented.  Mr.  O’Brien  also  prompted  me  to  this  deed, 
and,  if  I have  done  wrong,  he  must  take  half  the  punishment. 
My  address  is  “Rose,  Huissier,”  under  cover  of  the  President 
of  the  ISTational  Convention. 

“I  have  the  honor  to  be 

“Your  most  obedient 

“And  most  humble  servant, 

“ J.  H.  Stone.” 

It  was  in  the  month  of  October  of  this  year  that  the  romantic 
adventure  of  Madame  de  Genlis,  (in  the  contrivance  of  which 
the  practical  humor  of  Sheridan  may,  I think,  be  detected,)  oc- 
curred on  the  road  between  London  and  Hartford.  This  disi- 


150 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


tinguished  lady  had,  at  the  close  of  the  year  1791,  with  a view 
of  escaping  the  turbulent  scenes  then  passing  in  France,  come 
over  with  her  illustrious  pupil,  Mademoiselle  d’ Orleans,  and  her 
adopted  daughter,  Pamela,^  to  England,  where  she  received  both 
from  Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Sheridan,  all  that  attention  to  which  her 
high  character  for  talent,  as  well  as  the  embarrassing  nature  of 
her  situation  at  that  moment,  claimed  for  her. 

The  following  letter  from  her  to  Mr.  Fox  I find  inclosed  in 
one  from  the  latter  to  Mr.  Sheridan : — 

“ Sir, 

“ You  have,  by  your  infinite  kindness,  given  me  the  right  to 
show  you  the  utmost  confidence.  The  situation  I am  in  makes 
me  desire  to  have  with  me,  during  two  days,  a person  perfectly 
well  instructed  in  the  Laws,  and  very  sure  and  honest.  I desire 
such  a person  that  I could  offer  to  him  all  the  money  he  would 
have  for  this  trouble.  But  there  is  not  a moment  to  be  lost  on 
the  occasion.  If  you  could  send  me  directly  this  person,  you 
v\muld  render  me  the  most  important  service.  To  calm  the  most 
cruel  agitation  of  a sensible  and  grateful  soul  shall  be  your  re- 
ward.— Oh  could  I see  you  but  a minute  ! — I am  uneasy,  sick, 
unhappy ; surrounded  by  the  most  dreadful  snares  of  the  fraud 
and  wickedness ; I am  intrusted  with  the  most  interesting  and 
sacred  charge  ! — All  these  are  my  claims  to  hope  your  advices, 
protection  and  assistance.  My  friends  are  absent  in  that  mo- 
ment ; there  is  only  two  names  in  which  I could  place  my  confi- 


* Married  at  Tournay  in  the  month  of  December,  1792,  to  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald 
Lord  Edward  was  the  only  one,  among  the  numerous  suitors  of  Mrs.  Sheridan,  to  whom 
she  is  supposed  to  have  listened  with  any  thing  like  a return  of  feeling  ; and  that  there 
should  be  mutual  admiration  between  two  such  noble  specimens  of  human  nature,  it  is 
easy,  without  injury  to  either  of  them,  to  believe. 

Some  months  before  her  death,  when  Sheridan  had  been  describing  to  her  and  Lord 
Edward  a beautiful  French  girl  whom  he  had  lately  seen,  and  added  that  she  put  him 
strongly  in  mind  of  what  his  own  wife  had  been  in  the  first  bloom  of  her  youth  and 
beauty,  Mrs.  Sheridan  turned  to  Lord  Edward,  and  said  with  a melancholy  smile,  “I 
should  like  you,  when  T am  dead,  to  marry  that  girl.”  This  was  Pamela,  whcm  Sheridan 
had  just  seen  during  his  visit  of  a few  hours  to  Madame  de  Genlis,  at  Bury,  in  Suffolk,  and 
whom  Lord  Edward  rriarried  in  about  a year  after. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN. 


151 


dence  and  my  hopes.  Pardon  this  bad  language.  As  Hypolite 
I may  say, 

“ ^Songez  que  je  vous  farle  une  langue  Stranghre^ 
but  the  feelings  it  expresses  cannot  be  strangers  to  y'our  heart. 

“ Sans  avoir  I’avantage  d’etre  connue  de  Monsieur  Pox,  je 
prens  la  liberte  de  le  supplier  de  comuniquer  cette  lettre  a Mr. 
Sheridan,  et  si  ce  dernier  n’est  pas  a Londres,  j’ose  esperer  de 
Monsieur  Pox  la  meme  bonte  que  j’attendois  de  Mr.  Sheridan 
dans  I’embarras  ou  je  me  trouve.  Je  m’adresse  aux  deux  per- 
sonnes  de  I’Angleterre  que  j ’admire  le  plus,  et  je  serois  double- 
ment  heureuse  d’etre  tiree  de  cette  perplexite  et  de  leur  en  avoir 
robligation.  Je  serai  peut  etre  a Londres  incessament.  Je  de- 
sirerois  vivement  les  y trouver ; mais  en  attendant  je  souhaite 
avec  ardeur  avoir  ici  le  plus  promptement  possible  I’homme  de 
loi,  ou  seulement  en  etat  de  donner  de  bons  conseils  que  je  de- 
mand e.  Je  renouvelle  toutes  mes  excuses  de  tant  d’importu- 
nites.” 

It  was  on  her  departure  for  Prance  in  the  present  year  that 
the  celebrated  adventure  to  which  I have  alluded,  occurred ; and 
as  it  is  not  often  that  the  post-boys  between  London  and  Dart- 
ford  are  promoted  into  agents  of  mystery  or  romance,  I shall 
give  the  entire  narrative  of  the  event  in  the  lady’s  own  words, — 
premising,  (what  Mr.  Sheridan,  no  doubt  discovered,)  that  her 
imagination  had  been  for . some  time  on  the  watch  for  such  inci- 
dents, as  she  mentions,  in  another  place,  her  terrors  at  the  idea 
of  “crossing  the  desert  plains  of  Newmarket  without  an  es- 
cort.” 

We  left  London,’’  says  Madame  de  Genlis,  “ on  our  return  to  France 
the  20th  of  October,  1792,  and  a circumstance  occurred  to  us  so  extraor- 
dinary, that  I ought  not,  I feel,  to  pass  it  over  in  silence.  I shall  merely, 
however,  relate  the  fact,  without  any  attempt  to  explain  it,  or  without  add- 
ing to  my  recital  any  of  those  reflections  which  the  impartial  reader  will 
easily  supply.  We  set  out  at  ten  o’clock  in  the  morning  in  two  carriages, 
one  with  six  horses,  and  the  other,  in  which  were  our  maids,  with  four.  I 


152 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


had,  two  months  before,  sent  off  four  of  my  servants  to  Paris,  so  that  we 
had  with  us  only  one  French  servant,  and  a footman,  whom  we  had  hired 
to  attend  us  as  far  as  Dover.  When  we  were  about  a quarter  of  a league 
from  London,  the  French  servant,  who  had  never  made  the  journey  from 
Dover  to  London  but  once  before,  thought  he  perceived  that  we  were  not 
in  the  right  road,  and  on  his  making  the  remark  to  me,  I perceived  it  also. 
The  postillions,  on  being  questioned,  said  th^it  they  had  only  wished  to 
avoid  a small  hill,  and  that  they  would  soon  return  into  the  high  road 
again.  After  an  interval  of  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  seeing  that  we  still 
continued  our  way  through  a country  that  was  entirely  new  to  me,  I again 
interrogated  both  the  footman  and  the  postillions,  and  they  repeated  their 
assurance  that  we  should  soon  regain  the  usual  road. 

“ Notwithstanding  this,  however,  we  still  pursued  our  course  with  ex- 
treme rapidity,  in  the  same  unknown  route  ; and  as  I had  remarked  that 
the  post-boys  and  footman  always  answered  me  in  a strange  sort  of  laconic 
manner,  and  appeared  as  if  they  were  afraid  to  stop,  my  companions  and 
I began  to  look  at  each  other  with  a mixture  of  surprise  and  uneasiness. 
We  renewed  our  inquiries,  and  at  last  they  answered  that  it  was  indeed 
true  they  had  lost  their  way,  but  that  they  had  wished  to  conceal  it  from 
us  till  they  had  found  the  cross-road  to  Dartford  (our  first  stage,)  and  that 
now,  having  been  for  an  hour  and  a half  in  that  road,  we  had  but  two  miles 
to  go  before  we  should  reach  Dartford.  It  appeared  to  us  very  strange 
that  people  should  lose  their  way  between  London  and  Dover,  but  the  as- 
surance that  we  were  only  half  a league  from  Dartford  dispelled  the  sort  of 
vague  fear  that  had  for  a moment  agitated  us.  At  last,  after  nearly  an  hour 
had  elapsed,  seeing  that  we  still  were  not  arrived  at  the  end  of  the  stage, 
our  uneasiness  increased  to  a degree  which  amounted  even  to  terror.  It 
was  with  much  difSculty  that  I made  the  post-boys  stop  opposite  a small 
village  which  lay  to  our  left ; in  spite  of  my  shouts  they  still  went  on,  till  at 
last  the  French  servant,  (for  the  other  did  not  interfere,)  compelled  them 
to  stop.  I then  sent  to  the  village  to  ask  how  far  we  were  from  Dartford, 
and  my  surprise  may  be  guessed  when  I received  for  answer  that  we  were 
now  22  miles,  (more  than  seven  leagues,)  distant  from  that  place.  Conceal 
ing  my  suspicions,  I took  a guide  in  the  village,  and  declared  that  it  waa 
my  wush  to  return  to  London,  as  I found  I was  now  at  a less  distance  from 
that  city  than  from  Dartford.  The  post-boys  made  much  resistance  to  my 
desire,  and  even  behaved  with  an  extreme  degree  of  insolence,  but  our 
French  servant,  backed  by  the  guide,  compelled  them  to  obey. 

As  we  returned  at  a very  slow  pace,  owing  to  the  sulkiness  of  the  post- 
boys and  the  fatigue  of  the  horses,  we  did  not  reach  London  before  night- 
fall, when  I immediately  drove  to  Mr.  Sheridan's  house.  He  was  extremely 
surprised  to  see  me  returned,  and  on  my  relating  to  him  our  adventure, 
agreed  with  us  that  it  could  not  have  been  the  result  of  mere  chance.  He 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAB.  153 


then  sent  for  a Justice  of  the  Peace  to  examine  the  post-boys,  who  were 
detained  till  his  arrival  under  the  pretence  of  calculating  their  account ; 
but  in  the  meantime,  the  hired  footman  disappeared  and  never  returned. 
The  post-boys  being  examined  by  the  Justice  according  to  the  legal  form, 
and  in  the  presence  of  witnesses,  gave  their  answers  in  a very  confused  way, 
but  confessed  that  an  unknown  gentleman  had  come  in  the  morning  to 
their  masters,  and  carrying  them  from  thence  to  a public-house,  had.  by  giv- 
ing them  something  to  drink,  persuaded  them  to  take  the  road  by  which  we 
had  gone.  The  examination  was  continued  for  a long  time,  but  no  further 
confession  could  be  drawn  from  them.  Mi*.  Sheridan  told  me,  that  there 
was  sufficient  proof  on  which  to  ground  an  action  against  these  men,  but 
that  it  would  be  a tedious  process,  and  cost  a great  deal  of  money.  The 
post-boys  were  therefore  dismissed,  and  we  did  not  pursue  the  inquiry  any 
further.  As  Mr.  Sheridan  saw  the  terror  1 was  in  at  the  very  idea  of  again 
venturing  on  the  road  to  Dover,  he  promised  to  accompany  us  thither  him- 
self, but  added  that,  having  some  indispensable  business  on  his  hands,  he 
could  not  go  for  some  days.  He  took  us  then  to  Isleworth,  a country-house 
which  he  had  near  Richmond,  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  and  as  he  was 
not  able  to  dispatch  his  business  so  quickly  as  he  expected,  we  remained 
for  a month  in  that  hospitable  retreat,  which  both  gratitude  and  friendship 
rendered  so  agreeable  to  us.’’ 

It  is  impossible  to  read  this  narrative,  with  the  recollection,  at 
the  same  time,  in  our  minds  of  the  boyish  propensity  of  Sheri- 
dan to  what  are  called  practical  jokes,  without  strongly  suspect- 
ing that  he  was  himself  the  contriver  of  the  whole  adventure. 
The  ready  attendance  of  the  Justice, — the  ‘‘  unknown  gentleman” 
deposed  to  by  the  post-boys, — the  disappearance  of  the  laquais, 
and  the  advice  given  by  Sheridan  that  the  affair  should  be  pur- 
sued no  further, — all  strongly  savor  of  dramatic  contrivance,  and 
must  have  afforded  a scene  not  a little  trying  to  the  gravity  of 
him  who  took  the  trouble  of  getting  it  up.  With  respect  to  his 
motive,  the  agreeable  month  at  his  country-house  sufficiently  ex- 
plains it ; nor  could  his  conscience  have  felt  much  scruples  about 
an  imposture,  which,  so  far  from  being  attended  with  anydisagreea 
ble  consequences,  furnished  the  lady  with  an  incident  of  romance, 
of  which  she  was  but  too  happy  to  avail  herself,  and  procured 
for  him  the  presence  of  such  a distinguished  party,  to  grace  and 
enliven  the  festivities  of  Isleworth.* 

* In  the  Memoirs  of  Mad.  de  Genlis,  laip^.-  oublislied,  she  supplies  a still  more  intereet 


154 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


At  the  end  of  the  month,  (adds  Madame  de  Genlis,) 

“ Mr.  Sheridan  having  finished  his  business,  we  set  oif  together  for  Hover, 
himself,  his  son,  and  an  English  friend  of  his,  Mr.  Reid,  with  whom  I was 
but  a few  days  acquainted.  It  was  now  near  the  end  of  the  month  of  No- 
vember, 1792.  The  wind  being  adverse,  detained  us  for  five  days  at  Dover, 
during  all  which  time  Mr.  Sheridan  remained  with  us.  At  last  the  wind 
grew  less  unfavorable,  but  still  blew  so  violently  that  nobody  would  advise 
me  to  embark.  I resolved,  however,  to  venture,  and  Mr.  Sheridan  attend- 
ed us  into  the  very  packet-boat,  where  I received  his  farewell  witli  a feel- 
ing of  sadness  which  I cannot  express.  He  would  have  crossed  with  us. 
but  that  some  indispensable  duty,  at  that  moment,  required  his  presence  in 
England.  He,  however,  left  us  Mr.  Reid,  who  had  the  goodness  to  accom- 
pany us  to  Paris.’’ 

In  1793  war  was  declared  between  England  and  France. 
Though  hostilities  might,  for  a short  time  longer,  have  been 
avoided,  by  a more  accommodating  readiness  in  listening  to  the 
overtures  of  France,  and  a less  stately  tone  on  the  part  of  the 
English  negotiator,  there  could  hardly  have  existed  in  dispassion- 
ate minds  any  hope  of  averting  the  war  entirely,  or  even  of 
postponing  it  for  any  considerable  period.  Indeed,  however 
rational  at  first  might  have  been  the  expectation,  that  France,  if 
left  to  pass  through  the  ferment  of  her  own  Revolution,  would 
have  either  settled  at  last  into  a less  dangerous  form  of  power, 
or  exhausted  herself  into  a state  of  harmlessness  during  the  pro- 
cess, this  hope  had  been  for  some  time  frustrated  by  the  crusade 
proclaimed  against  her  liberties  by  the  confederated  Princes  of 
Europe.  The  conference  at  Pilnitz  and  the  Manifesto  of  the 
Duke  of  Brunswick  had  taught  the  French  people  what  they 
were  to  expect,  if  conquered,  and  had  given  to  that  inundation 
of  energy,  under  which  the  Republic  herself  was  sinking,  a vent 

ing  key  to  his  motives  for  such  a contrivance.  It  appears,  from  the  new  recollections  of 
this  lady,  that  “ he  was  passionately  in  love  with  Pamela,”  and  that,  before  her  depar- 
ture from  England,  the  following  scene  took  place  “ Two  days  before  we  set  out,  Mr. 
Sheridan  made,  in  my  presence,  his  declaration  of  love  to  Pamela,  who  was  affected  by 
hia  agreeable  manner  and  high  character,  and  accepted  the  offer  of  his  hand  with  plea- 
sure. In  consequence  of  this,  it  was  settled  that  he  was  to  marry  her  on  our  return  from 
France,  which  was  expected  to  take  place  in  a fortnight.”  I suspect  this  to  be  but  a 
continuation  of  the  Romance  of  Dartford. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  156 


and  direction  outwards  that  transferred  all  the  ruin  to  her  ene- 
mies. In  the  wild  career  of  aggression  and  lawlessness,  of  con- 
quest without,  and  anarchy  within,  which  naturally  followed 
such  an  outbreak  of  a whole  maddened  people,  it  would 
have  been  difficult  for  England,  by  any  management  whatever, 
to  keep  herself  uninvolved  in  the  general  combustion, — even 
had  her  own  population  been  much  less  heartily  disposed  than 
they  were  then,  and  ever  have  been,  to  strike  m with  the  great 
discords  of  the  world. 

That  Mr.  Pitt  himself  was  slow  and  reluctant  to  yield  to  the 
necessity  of  hostile  measures  against  France,  appears  from  the 
whole  course  of  his  financial  policy,  down  to  the  very  close  of 
the  session  of  1792.  The  confidence,  indeed,  with  which  he 
looked  forward  to  a long  continuance  of  peace,  in  the  midst  of 
events,  that  were  audibly  the  first  mutterings  of  the  earthquake, 
seemed  but  little  indicative  of  that  philosophic  sagacity,  which 
enables  a statesman  to  see  the  rudiments  of  the  Future  in  the 
Present."^  “It  is  not  unreasonable,”  said  he  on  the  21st  of 
February,  1792,  “to  expect  that  the  peace  v/hich  we  now  enjoy 
should  continue  at  least  fifteen  years,  since  at  no  period  of  the 
British  history,  whether  we  consider  the  internal  situation  of 
this  kingdom  or  its  relation  to  foreign  powers,  has  the  prospect 
of  war  been  farther  removed  than  at  present.” 

In  pursuance  of  this  feeling  of  security,  he,  in  the  course  of 
the  session  of  1791-2,  repealed  taxes  to  the  amount  of  200,000/. 
a year,  made  considerable  reductions  in  the  naval  and  military 
establishments,  and  allowed  the  Hessian  Subsidy  to  expire,  with- 
out any  movement  towards  its  renewal.  He  likewise  showed 
his  perfect  confidence  in  the  tranquillity  of  the  country,  by  break- 

* Frotn  the  following  words  in  his  Speech  on  the  communication  from  France  in  1800, 
he  appears,  himself,  to  have  been  aware  of  his  want  of  foresight  at  the  commencement 
of  the  war  : — 

“ Besides  this,  the  reduction  of  our  Peace  Establishment  in  the  year  1791,  and  continued 
to  the  subsequent  year,  is  a fact,  from  which  the  inference  is  indisputable  ; a fact,  which, 
am  afraid,  shows  not  only  that  we  were  not  waiting  for  the  occasion  of  war,  but  that, 
in  our  partiality  for  a pacific  system,  we  had  indulged  ourselves  in  a fond  and  creduloqfl 
security,  which  wisdom  and  discretion  would  not  have  dictated,’^ 


166 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


ing  off  a negotiation  into  which  he  had  entered  with  the  holders 
of  the  four  per  cents,  for  the  reduction  of  their  stock  to  three 
per  cent. — saying,  in  answer  to  their  demand  of  a larger  bonus 
than  he  thought  proper  to  give,  “ Then  we  will  put  off  the  re- 
duction of  this  stock  till  next  year.”  The  truth  is,  Mr.  Pitt  was 
proud  of  his  financial  system  ; — the  abolition  of  taxes  and  the 
Reduction  of  the  National  Debt  were  the  two  great  results  t 
w^hich  he  looked  as  a proof  of  its  perfection ; and  while  a war 
he  knew,  would  produce  the  very  reverse  of  the  one,  it  would 
leave  little  more  than  the  name  and  semblance  of  the  other. 

The  alarm  for  the  safety  of  their  establishments,  which  at  this 
time  pervaded  the  great  mass  of  the  people  of  England,  carried 
the  proof  of  its  own  needlessness  in  the  wide  extent  to  which  it 
spread,  and  the  very  small  minority  that  was  thereby  left  to  be 
the  object  of  apprehension.  That  in  this  minority,  (which  was, 
with  few  exceptions,  confined  to  the  lower  classes,)  the  elements 
of  sedition  and  insurrection  were  actively  at  work,  cannot  be  de- 
nied. There  was  not  a corner  of  Europe  where  the  same  ingre- 
dients were  not  brought  into  ferment ; for  the  French  Revolu- 
tion had  not  only  the  violence,  but  the  pervading  influence  of 
the  Simoom,  and  while  it  destroyed  where  it  immediately  passed, 
made  itself  felt  every  where.  But,  surrounded  and  watched  as 
were  the  few  disaffected  in  England,  by  all  the  rank,  property 
and  power  of  the  country, — animated  at  that  moment  by  a more 
than  usual  portion  of  loyalty, — the  dangers  from  sedition,  as  yet, 
were  by  no  means  either  so  deep  or  extensive,  as  that  a strict 
and  vigilant  exercise  of  the  laws  already  in  being,  would  not 
have  been  abundantly  adequate  to  all  the  purposes  of  their  sup 
pression. 

The  admiration,  indeed,  with  which  the  first  dawn  of  the  Revo- 
lution was  hailed  had  considerably  abated.  The  excesses  into 
which  the  new  Republic  broke  loose  had  alienated  the  worship 
of  most  of  its  higher  class  of  votaries,  and  in  some,  as  in  Mr. 
Windham,  had  converted  enthusiastic  admiration  into  horror; — 
so  that,  though  a strong  sympathy  with  the  general  cause  of  the 
RpvrJiition  was  still  felt  among  the  few  Whigs  that  repiaineA 


KlGHl^  HOJSr.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  l57 


the  profession  of  its  wild,  republican  theories  was  chiefly  con- 
fined to  two  classes  of  persons,  who  coincide  more  frequently 
than  they  themselves  imagine, — the  speculative  and  the  ig- 
norant. 

The  Minister,  however,  gave  way  to  a panic  which,  there  is 
every  reason  to  believe,  he  did  not  liimself  participate,  and  in 
going  out  of  the  precincts  of  the  Constitution  for  new  and  ar- 
bitrary powers,  established  a series  of  fatal  precedents,  of  which 
alarmed  Authority  will  be  always  but  too  ready  to  avail  itself. 
By  these  stretches  of  power  he  produced — what  was  far  more 
dangerous  than  all  the  ravings  of  club  politicians — that  vehement 
reaction  of  feeling  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Fox  and  his  followers, 
w'hich  increased  with  the  increasing  rigor  of  the  government,  and 
sometimes  led  them  to  the  brink  of  such  modes  and  principles 
of  opposition,  as  aggressions,  so  wanton,  upon  liberty  alone  could 
have  either  provoked  or  justified. 

The  great  promoters  of  the  alarm  were  Mr.  Burke,  and  those 
other  Whig  Seceders,  who  had  for  some  time  taken  part  with 
the  administration  against  their  former  friends,  and,  as  is  usual 
with  such  proselytes,  outran  those  whom  they  joined,  on  every 
point  upon  which  they  before  most  differed  from  them.  To 
justify  their  defection,  the  dangers  upon  which  they  grounded  it, 
were  exaggerated  ; and  the  eagerness  with  which  they  called  for 
restrictions  upon  the  liberty  of  the  subject  was  but  too  worthy 
of  deserters  not  only  from  their  post  but  from  their  principles. 
One  striking  difference  between  these  new  pupils  of  Toryism 
and  their  master  was  with  respect  to  the  ultimate  object  of  the 
war. — Mr.  Pitt  being  of  opinion  that  security  against  the  power 
of  France,  without  any  interference  whatever  with  her  internal 
affairs,  was  the  sole  aim  to  which  hostilities  should  be  directed ; 
while  nothing  less  than  the  restoration  of  the  Bourbons  to  the 
power  which  they  possessed  before  the  assembling  of  the  Etats 
Genereaux  could  satisfy  Mr.  Burke  and  his  fellow  converts  to  the 
cause  of  Thrones  and  Hierarchies.  The  effect  of  this  diversity 
of  objects  upon  the  conduct  of  the  war — particularly  after  Mr. 
Pitt  had  added  to  “ Security  for  the  future,”  the  suspicious  sup- 


168 


MEMOIRS  OP  THE  LIFE  OP  THE 


plement  of  “ Indemnity  for  the  past” — was  no  less  fatal  to  the 
success  of  operations  abroad  than  to  the  unity  of  councils  at 
home.  So  separate,  indeed,  were  the  views  of  the  two  parties 
considered,  that  the  unfortunate  expedition,  in  aid  of  the  Vendean 
insurgents  in  1795,  was  known  to  be  peculiarly  the  measure  of 
the  Burke  part  of  the  cabinet,  and  to  have  been  undertaken  on 
the  sole  responsibility  of  their  ministerial  organ,  Mr.  Windham. 

It  must  be  owned,  too,  that  the  object  of  the  Alarmists  in  the 

war,  however  grossly  inconsistent  with  their  former  principles, 
had  the  merit  of  being  far  more  definite  than  that  of  Mr.  Pitt ; 
and,  had  it  been  singly  and  consistently  pursued  from  the  first, 
with  all  the  vigor  and  concentration  of  means  so  strenuously 
recommended  by  Mr.  Burke,  might  have  justified  its  quixotism 
in  the  end  by  a more  speedy  and  less  ruinous  success.  As  it 

was,  however,  the  divisions,  jealousies  and  alarms  which  Mr. 
Pitt’s  views  towards  a future  dismemberment  of  Prance  excited 
not  only  among  the  Continental  powers,  but  among  the  French 
themselves,  completely  defeated  every  hope  and  plan  for  either 
concert  without  or  co-operation  within.  At  the  same  time,  the 
distraction  of  the  efforts  of  England  from  the  heart  of  French 
power  to  its  remote  extremities,  in  what  Mr.  Windham  called 
‘‘  a war  upon  sugar  Islands,”  was  a waste  of  means  as  unstates- 
manlike as  it  was  calamitous,  and  fully  entitled  Mr.  Pitt  to  the 
satire  on  his  policy,  conveyed  In  the  remark  of  a certain  distin- 
guished lady,  who  said  to  him,  upon  hearing  of  some  new  acqui- 
sition in  the  W est  Indies,  “ I protest,  Mr.  Pitt,  if  you  go  on  thus, 
you  will  soon  be  master  of  every  island  in  the  world  except  just 
those  two  little  ones,  England  and  Ireland.”* 

That  such  was  the  light  in  which  Mr.  Sheridan  himself  viewed 
the  mode  of  carrying  on  the  war  recommended  by  the  Alarm- 
ists, in  comparison  with  that  which  Mr.  Pitt  in  general  adopted, 
appears  from  the  following  passage  in  his  speech  upon  Spanish 
affairs  in  the  year  1808  : — 

There  was  hardly  a person,  except  his  Right  Honorable  Friend  near 
♦ Mr.  Sheridan  quoted  this  anecdote  in  one  of  his  speeches  in  1794. 


EIGHT  HON.  BtCHARi)  BRtNSLET  SHERIDAN.  159 


him,  (Mr.  Windham,)  and  Mr.  Burke,  who  since  the  Revolution  of  France 
had  formed  adequate  notions  of  the  necessary  steps  to  be  taken.  The  va- 
rious governments  which  this  country  had  seen  during  that  period  were 
always  employed  in  filching  for  a sugar-island,  or  some  other  object  of 
comparatively  trifiing  moment,  while  the  main  and  principal  purpose  was 
lost  and  forgotten.’^ 

Whatever  were  the  failures  of  Mr.  Pitt  abroad,  at  home  his 
ascendancy  was  fixed  and  indisputable ; and,  among  all  the  tri- 
umphs of  power  which  he  enjoyed  during  his  career,  the  tribute 
now  paid  to  him  by  the  Whig  Aristocracy,  in  taking  shelter 
under  his  ministry  from  the  dangers  of  Pevolution,  could  not 
have  been  the  least  gratifying  to  his  haughty  spirit.  The  India 
Bill  had  ranged  on  his  side  the  King  and  the  People,  and  the 
Revolution  now  brought  to  his  banner  the  flower  of  the  Nobility 
of  both  parties.  Plis  own  estimate  of  rank  may  be  fairly  col- 
lected both  from  the  indifference  which  he  showed  to  its  honors 
himself,  and  from  the  depreciating  profusion  with  which  he  lav- 
ished them  upon  others.  It  may  be  doubted  whether  his  respect 
for  Aristocracy  was  much  increased,  by  the  readiness  which  he 
now  saw  in  some  of  his  high-born  opponents,  to  volunteer  for 
safety  into  his  already  powerful  ranks,  without  even  pausing  to 
try  the  experiment,  whether  safety  might  not  have  been  recon 
cilAle  with  principle  in  their  own.  It  is  certain  that,  without 
the  accession  of  so  much  weight  and  influence,  he  never  could 
have  ventured  upon  the  violations  of  the  Constitution  that  fol- 
lowed— nor  would  the  Opposition,  accordingly,  have  been  driven 
by  these  excesses  of  power  into  that  reactive  violence  which  was 
the  natural  consequence  of  an  effort  to  resist  them.  The  pru- 
dent apprehensions,  therefore,  of  these  Noble  Whigs  would  have 
been  much  more  usefully  as  well  as  honorably  employed,  in 
mingling  with,  and  moderating  the  proceedings  of  the  friends  of 
Liberty,  than  in  ministering  fresh  fuel  to  the  zeal  and  vindictive* 
ness  of  her  enemies.^ 

♦ The  case  against  these  Noble  Seceders  is  thus  spiritedly  stated  by  Ix>rd  Moira  : — 

“ I cannot  ever  sit  in  a cabinet  with  the  Duke  of  Portland.  He  appears  to  me  to  have 
done  more  injury  to  the  Constitution  and  to  the  estimation  of  the  higher  ranks  in  this  coun* 


160 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


It  may  be  added,  too,  that  in  allowing  themselves  to  be  per- 
suaded by  Burke,  that  the  extinction  of  the  ancient  Noblesse  of 
France  protended  necessarily  any  danger  to  the  English  Aris- 
tocracy, these  Noble  persons  did  injustice  to  the  strength  of 
their  own  order,  and  to  the  characteristics  by  which  it  is  proudly 
distinguished  from  every  other  race  of  Nobility  in  Europe. 
Placed,  as  a sort  of  break- water,  between  the  People  and  the 
Throne,  in  a state  of  double  responsibility  to  liberty  on  one 
side,  and  authority  on  the  other,  the  Aristocracy  of  England  hold 
a station  w^hich  is  dignified  by  its  own  great  duties,  and  of  which 
the  titles  transmitted  by  their  ancestors  form  the  least  important 
ornament.  Unlike  the  Nobility  of  other  countries,  where  the 
rank  and  privileges  of  the  father  are  multiplied  through  his  off- 
spring, and  equally  elevate  them  all  above  the  level  of  the  com- 
munity, the  very  highest  English  Nobleman  must  consent  to  be 
the  father  but  of  commoners.  Thus,  connected  with  the  class 
below  him  by  private  as  w^ell  as  public  sympathies,  he  gives  his 
children  to  the  People  as  hostages  for  the  sincerity  of  his  zeal  in 
their  cause— while  on  the  other  hand,  the  People,  in  return  for 
these  pledges  of  the  Aristocracy,  sends  a portion  of  its  own  ele- 
ments aloft  into  that  higher  region,  to  mingle  with  its  glories 
and  assert  their  claim  to  a share  in  its  powrer.  By  this  mutual 
transfusion  an  equilibrium  is  preserved,  like  that  w’hich  similar 
processes  maintain  in  the  natural  world,  and  while  a healthy, 
popular  feeling  circulates  through  the  Aristocracy,  a sense  of 
their  own  station  in  the  scale  elevates  the  People. 

To  tremble  for  the  safety  of  a Nobility  so  constituted,  with- 
out much  stronger  grounds  for  alarm  than  appear  to  have  existed 
in  1793,  was  an  injustice  not  only  to  that  class  itself,  but  the 

try  than  any  man  on  the  political  stag^e.  By  his  union  with  Mr.  Pitt  he  has 
given  it  to  be  understood  by  the  people,  that  either  all  the  constitutional 
charges  which  he  and  his  friends  for  so  many  years  urged  against  Mr.  Pitt 
were  groundless,  or  that,  being  solid,  there  was  no  difficulty  in  waving  them 
when  a convenient  partition  of  powers  and  emoluments  was  proposed.  In 
either  case  the  people  must  infer  that  the  constitutional  principle  which  can 
be  so  played  with  is  unimportant,  and  that  parliamentary  professions  are  no 
security.” — Ljcttcr  f rom  the  Eavl  of  Moirci  to  Colonel  M* Methon^  Po/r-^ 

liamentary  History. 


HIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN^.'  161 


whole  nation.  The  world  has  never  yet  afforded  an  example, 
where  this  artificial  distinction  between  mankind  has  been  turned 
to  such  beneficial  account ; and  as  no  monarchy  can  exist  without 
such  an  order,  so,  in  any  other  shape  than  this,  such  an  order  is 
a burden  and  a nuisance.  In  England,  so  happy  a conformation 
of  her  Aristocracy  is  one  of  those  fortuitous  results  which  time 
and  circumstances  have  brought  out  in  the  long-tried  experimeno 
of  her  Constitution ; and.  while  there  is  no  chance  of  its  being 
ever  again  attained  in  the  Old  World,  there  is  but  little  proba- 
bility of  its  being  attempted  in  the  New, — where  the  youthful 
nations  now  springing  into  life,  will,  if  they  are  wise,  make  the 
most  of  the  free  career  before  them,  and  unencumbered  with  the 
costly  trappings  of  feudalism,  adopt,  like  their  northern  neigh- 
bors, that  form  of  government,  w'hose  simplicity  and  cheapness 
are  the  best  guarantees  for  its  efficacy  and  purity. 

In  judging  of  the  policy  of  Mr.  Pitt,  during  the  Revolutionary 
war,  his  partisans,  we  know,  laud  it  as  having  been  the  means  of 
salvation  to  England,  while  his  opponents  assert  that  it  was  only 
prevented  by  chance  from  being  her  ruin — and  though  the  event 
gives  an  appearance  of  triumph  to  the  former  opinicn,  it  by  no 
means  lemoves  or  even  weakens  the  grounds  of  the  latter. 
During  the  first  nine  years  of  his  administration,  Mr.  Pitt  was, 
in  every  respect,  an  able  and  most  useful  minister,  and,  “ while 
the  sea  was  calm,  showed  mastership  in  floating.’*  But  the  great 
events  that  happened  afterwards  took  him  by  surprise.  When  he 
came  to  look  abroad  from  his  cabinet  into  the  storm  that  was 
brewing  through  Europe,  the  clear  and  enlarged  view  of  the 
higher  order  of  statesmen  was  wanting.  Instead  of  elevating 
himself  above  the  influence  of  the  agitation  and  alarm  that  pre- 
vailed, he  gave  way  to  it  with  the  crowd  of  ordinary  minds, 
and  even  took  counsel  from  the  panic  of  others.  The  conse- 
quence was  a series  of  measures,  violent  at  home  and  inefficient 
abroad — far  short  of  the  mark  where  vigor  was  wanting,  and 
beyond  it,  as  often,  where  vigor  was  mischievous. 

When  we  are  told  to  regard  his  policy  as  the  salvation  of  the 
country — when,  (to  use  a figure  of  Mr.  Dundas,)  a claim  of 


162 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  TTtF 


salvage  is  made  for  him,— it  may  be  allowed  us  to  consider  a little 
the  nature  of  the  measures,  by  which  this  alleged  salvation  was 
achieved.  If  entering  into  a great  war  without  either  consisten- 
cy of  plan,  or  preparation  of  means,  and  with  a total  ignorance 
of  the  financial  resources  of  the  enemy*— if  allowing  one  part  of 
the  Cabinet  to  flatter  the  French  Koyalists,  with  the  hope  of 
seeing  the  Bourbons  restored  to  undiminished  power,  while  the 
other  part  acted,  whenever  an  opportunity  offered,  upon  the  plan 
of  dismembering  France  for  the  aggrandizement  of  Austria,  and 
thus,  at  once,  alienated  Prussia  at  the  very  moment  of  subsidiz- 
ing him,  and  lost  the  confidence  of  all  the  Eoyalist  party  in 
France,!  except  the  few  who  were  ruined  by  English  assistance 
at  Quiberon— if  going  to  war  in  1793  for  the  right  of  the  Dutch  to 
a river,  and  so  managing  it  that  in  1794  the  Dutch  lost  their  whole 
Seven  Provinces— if  lavishing  more  money  upon  failures  than 
the  successes  of  a century  had  cost,  and  supporting  this  profusion 
by  schemes  of  finance,  either  hollow  and  delusive,  like  the  Sink- 
ing Fund,  or  desperately  regardless  of  the  future,  like  the  paper 
issues— if  driving  Ireland  into  rebellion  by  the  perfidious  recall 
of  Lord  Fitzwilliam,  and  reducing  England  to  two  of  the  most 
fearful  trials,  that  a nation,  depending  upon  credit  and  a navy, 
could  encounter,  the  stoppage  of  her  Bank  and  a mutiny  in  her 
fleet— if,  finally,  floundering  on  from  effort  to  effort  against 
France,  and  then  dying  upon  the  ruins  of  the  last  Coalition  he 
could  muster  against  her— if  all  this  betokens  a wise  and  able 
minister,  then  is  Mr.  Pitt  most  amply  entitled  to  that  name 
then  are  the  lessons  of  wisdom  to  be  read,  like  Hebrew,  back- 
ward, and  waste  and  rashness  and  systematic  failure  to  be  held 
the  only  true  means  of  saving  a country. 

Had  even  success,  by  one  of  those  anomalous  accidents,  which 
sometimes  baffle  the  best  founded  calculations  of  wisdom,  been 

♦ Into  his  erroneous  calculations  upon  this  point  he  is  supposed  to  have 
been  led  by  Sir  Francis  D’lvernois. 

+ Among  other  instances,  the  Abbe  Maury  is  reported  to  have  said  at 
Rome  in  a large  company  of  his  countrymen— “ Still  we  have  one  remedy- 
let  us  not  allow  France  to  be  divided— we  have  seen  the  partition  of  Poland; 
we  must  all  turn  Jacobins  to  preserve  our  country.” 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  163 


the  imroediate  result  of  this  long  monotony  of  error,  it  could  not, 
except  with  those  to  whom  the  event  is  every  thing — “ EventuSy 
stultorum  magisier  — reflect  back  merit  upon  the  means  by 
which  it  was  achieved,  or,  by  a retrospective  miracle,  convert  that 
into  wisdom,  which  chance  had  only  saved  from  the  worst  conse- 
quences of  folly.  Just  as  well  might  we  be  called  upon  to  pro- 
nounce Alchemy  a wise  art,  because  a perseverance  in  its  failures 
and  reveries  had  led  by  accident  to  the  discoveries  of  Chemistry. 
But  even  this  sanction  of  good-luck  was  wanting  to  the  unredeem- 
ed mistakes  of  Mr.  Pitt.  During  the  eight  years  that  intervened 
between  his  death  and  the  termination  of  the  contest,  the  adop- 
tion of  a far  wiser  policy  was  forced  upon  his  more  tractable 
pupils ; and  the  only  share  that  his  measures  can  claim  in  the 
successful  issue  of  the  war,  is  that  of  having  produced  the  griev- 
ance that  was  then  abated — of  having  raised  up  the  power  op- 
posed to  him  to  the  portentous  and  dizzy  height,  from  which  it 
then  fell  by  the  giddiness  of  its  own  elevation,]*  and  by  the  re- 
action, not  of  the  Princes,  but  the  People  of  Europe  against  its 
yoke. 

What  would  have  been  the  course  of  affairs,  both  foreign  and 
domestic,  had  Mr.  Fox — as  was,  at  one  time,  not  improbable — 
been  the  Minister  during  this  period,  must  be  left  to  that  super 
human  knowledge,  which  the  schoolmen  call  “ media  scientia^'^ 
and  which  consists  in  knowing  all  that  would  have  happened,  had 
events  been  otherwise  than  they  have  been.  It  is  probable  that 
some  of  the  results  would  not  have  been  so  different  as  the  res- 
pective principles  of  Mr.  Pitt  and  Mr.  Fox  might  naturally  lead 
us,  on  the  first  thought,  to  assert.  If  left  to  himself,  there  is  little 
doubt  that  the  latter,  from  the  simple  and  fearless  magnanimity 
of  his  nature,  would  have  consulted  for  the  public  safety  with  that 
moderation  which  true  courage  inspires ; and  that,  even  had  it 
been  necessary  to  suspend  the  Constitution  for  a season,  he  would 


♦ A saying  of  the  wise  Fabius. 

f summisque  negdtum 

Stare  diu.^* 


Lucan. 


164 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


have  known  how  to  veil  the  statue  of  Liberty,*  without  leaving, 
like  his  rival,  such  marks  of  mutilation  on  its  limbs.  But  it  is 
to  be  recollected  that  he  would  have  had  to  encounter,  in  his  own 
ranks,  the  very  same  patrician  alarm,  which  could  even  to  Mr. 
Pitt  give  an  increase  of  momentum  against  liberty,  and  which 
the  possession  of  power  would  have  rendered  but  more  sensitive 
and  arbitrary.  Accustomed,  too,  as  he  had  long  been,  to  yield 
to  the  influence  of  Burke,  it  would  have  required  more  firmness 
than  habitually  belonged  to  Mr.  Fox,  to  withstand  the  persever- 
ing impetuosity  of  such  a counsellor,  or  keep  the  balance  of  his 
mind  unshaken  by  those  stupendous  powers,  which,  like  the 
horses  of  the  Sun  breaking  out  of  the  ecliptic,  carried  every 
thing  they  seized  upon,  so  splendidly  astray  : — 

quaque  impetus  egit, 

Hac  sine  lege  ruunt,  altoque  sub  cethere  jixis 
Incur sant  stellis^  rapiuntque  per  avia  cu,rrumP 

Where’er  the  impulse  drives,  they  hurst  away 
In  lawless  grandeur  ; — break  into  the  array 
Of  the  fix’d  stars,  and  bound  and  blaze  along 
Their  devious  course,  magnificently  wrong ! 

Having  hazarded  these  general  observations,  upon  the  views  and 
conduct  of  the  respective  parties  of  England,  during  the  Crusade 
now  begun  against  the  French  people,  I shall  content  myself 
with  briefly  and  cursorily  noticing  the  chief  questions  upon  which 
Mr.  Sheridan  distinguished  himself,  in  the  course  of  the  parlia 
mentary  campaigns  that  followed.  The  sort  of  guerilla  warfa 
which  he  and  the  rest  of  the  small  band  attached  to  Mr.  F 
carried  on,  during  this  period,  against  the  invaders  of  the  Con- 
stitution, is  interesting  rather  by  its  general  character  than  its 
detail ; for  in  these,  as  usual,  the  episodes  of  party  personality 
are  found  to  encroach  disproportionately  on  the  main  design, 
and  the  grandeur  of  the  cause,  as  viewed  at  a distance,  becomes 
diminished  to  our  imaginations  by  too  near  an  approach.  Eng- 

♦ II  y a des  cos  ou  ilfaut  mettre  pour  un  moment  un  voile  sur  la  LibertCj  comme  Von 
cache  les  stalfues  — ^Montebquieu,  liv.  xii.  chup.  20. 


EIGHT  HOJSr.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  165 

lishmen,  however,  will  long  look  back  to  that  crisis  with  interest ; 
and  the  names  of  Fox,  of  Sheridan,  and  of  Grey  will  be  affectionate- 
ly remembered,  when  that'sort  of  false  elevation,  which  party-feel- 
ing now  gives  to  the  reputations  of  some  who  were  opposed  to 
them,  shall  have  subsided  to  its  due  level,  or  been  succeeded  by 
oblivion.  They  who  act  against  the  general  sympathies  of  man- 
kind, however  they  may  be  artificially  buoyed  up  for  the  mo- 
ment, have  the  current  against  them  in  the  long  run  of  fame  ; 
while  the  reputation  of  those,  whose  talents  have  been  employed 
upon  the  popular  and  generous  side  of  human  feelings,  receives, 
through  all  time,  an  accelerating  impulse  from  the  countless 
hearts  that  go  with  :‘t  in  its  course.  Lord  Chatham,  even  now, 
supersedes  his  son  in  fame,  and  will  leave  him  at  an  immeasura- 
ble distance  with  posterity. 

Of  the  events  of  the  private  life  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  during  this 
stormy  part  of  his  political  career,  there  remain  but  few  memo- 
rials among  his  papers.  As  an  illustration,  however,  of  his  love 
of  betting — the  only  sort  of  gambling  in  which  he  ever  indulged 
— the  following  carious  list  of  his  wagers  for  the  year  is  not 
unamusing : — 

2bth  May,  1793. — Mr.  Sheridan  bets  Gen.  Fitzpatrick  one  hundred 
guineas  to  fifty  guineas,  that  within  two  years  from  this  date  some  measure 
is  adopted  in  Parliament  which  shall  be  {bona  fide)  considered  as  the 
adoption  of  a Parliamentary  Reform. 


“ 2SHh  January,  1793. — Mr.  S.  bets  Mr.  Boothby  Clopton  five  hundred 
guineas,  that  there  is  a Reform  in  the  Representation  of  the  people  of  Eng- 
land within  three  years  from  the  date  hereof. 


“ 29/A 1793. — Mr.  S.  bets  Mr.  Hardy  one  hundred  guineas  to 
fifty  guineas,  that  Mr.  W.  Windham,  does  not  represent  Norwich  at  the  next 
general  election. 

29^A  January,  1793.— Mr.  S.  bets  Gen.  Fitzpatrick  fifty  guineas,  that  a 
corps  of  British  troops  are  sent  to  Holland  within  two  months  of  the  date 
hereof. 


March)  X793. — Mr.  S.  bets  Lord  Titchfield  two  hundred  guineas, 


166 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


that  the  D.  of  Portland  is' at  the  head  of  an  Administration  an  or  before 
the  18th  of  March,  1796  : Mr.  Fox  to  decide  whether  any  place  the  Duke 
may  then  fill  shall  bo7ia  fide  come  within  the  meaning  of  this  bet. 

2^th  March,  1793. — Mr.  S.  bets  Mr.  Hardy  one  hundred  guineas,  that 
the  three  per  cent,  consols  are  as  high  this  day  twelvemonth  as  at  the  date 
hereof. 


Mr.  S.  bets  Gen.  Tarleton  one  hundred  guineas  to  fifty  guineas,  that  Mr. 
Pitt  is  first  Lord  of  the  Treasury  on  the  28th  of  May,  1795. — Mr.  S.  bets  Mr. 
A.  St.  John  fifteen  guineas  to  five  guineas,  ditto. — Mr.  S.  bets  Lord 
Sefton  one  hundred  and  forty  guineas  to  forty  guineas,  ditto. 


l^th  March,  1793. — Lord  Titchfield  and  Lord  W.  Russell  bet  Mr.  S. 
three  hundred  guineas  to  two  hundred  guineas,  that  Mr.  Pitt  is  first  Lord 
of  the  Treasury  on  the  19th  of  March,  1795. 


“ 18^/?.  Ma.rch,  1793. — Lord  Titchfield  bets  Mr.  S.  twenty-five  guineas  to 
fifty  guineas,  that  Mr.  W,  Windham  represents  Norwich  at  the  next  general 
election. 

As  a sort  of  moral  supplement  to  this  strange  list,  and  one 
of  those  insights  into  character  and  conduct  which  it  is  the  duty 
a biographer  to  give,  I shall  subjoin  a letter,  connected  evi- 
dently with  one  of  the  above  speculations  • — 

“ Sir, 

‘‘  I am  very  sorry  that  I have  been  so  circumstanced  as  to 
have  been  obliged  to  disappoint  you  respecting  the  payment  of 
the  five  hundred  guineas : when  1 gave  the  draughts  on  Lord 

* * I had  every  reason  to  be  assured  he  would  accept  them,  as 

* * had  also.  I enclose  you,  as  you  will  see  by  his  desire,  the 
letter  in  which  he  excuses  his  not  being  able  to  pay  me  this  part 
of  a larger  sum  he  owes  me,  and  I cannot  refuse  him  any  time 
he  requires,  however  inconvenient  to  me.  I also  enclose  you 
two  draughts  accepted  by  a gentleman  from  whom  the  money 
will  be  due  to  me,  and  on  whose  punctuality  I can  rely.  I ex- 
tremely regret  that  I cannot  at  this  juncture  command  the 
money. 


EIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN. 


167 


“ At  the  same  time  that  I regret  your  being  put  to  any  incon 
renience  by  this  delay,  I cannot  help  adverting  to  the  circum- 
stance which  perhaps  misled  me  into  the  expectation  that  you 
would  not  unwillingly  allow  me  any  reasonable  time  I might 
want  for  the  payment  of  this  bet.  The  circumstance  I mean, 
however  discreditable  the  plea,  is  the  total  inebriety  of  some  of 
the  party,  particularly  of  myself,  when  I made  this  preposterous 
bet.  I doubt  not  you  will  remember  having  yourself  observed 
on  this  circumstance  to  a common  friend  the  next  day,  with  an 
intimation  that  you  should  not  object  to  being  off ; and  for  my 
part,  when  I was  informed  that  I had  made  such  a bet  and  for 
such  a sum, — the  first,  such  folly  on  the  face  of  it  on  my  part, 
and  the  latter  so  out  of  my  practice, — I certainly  should  have 
proposed  the  cancelling  it,  but  that,  from  the  intimation  impart- 
ed to  me,  I hoped  the  proposition  might  come  from  you. 

“ I hope  I need  not  for  a moment  beg  you  not  to  imagine 
that  I am  now  alluding  to  these  circumstances  as  the  slightest  invali- 
dation of  your  due.  So  much  the  contrary,  that  I most  per- 
fectly admit  that  from  your  not  having  heard  any  thing  further 
from  me  on  the  subject,  and  especially  after  I might  have  heard 
that  if  I desired  it  the  bet  might  be  off,  you  had  every  reason 
to  conclude  that  I was  satisfied  with  the  wager,  and  whether 
made  in  wine  or  not,  was  desirous  of  abiding  by  it.  And  this 
was  further  confirmed  by  my  receiving  soon  after  from  you  100/. 
on  another  bet  won  by  me. 

“Having,  I think,  put  this  point  very  fairly,  1 again  repeat 
that  my  only  motive  for  alluding  to  the  matter  was,  as  some 
explanation  of  my  seeming  dilatoriness,  which  certainly  did  in 
part  arise  from  always  conceiving  that,  w^henever  I should  state 
what  was  my^  real  wish  the  day^  after  the  bet  w^as  made,  you 
would  be  the  more  disposed  to  allow  a little  time ; — the  same 
statement  admitting,  as  it  must,  the  bet  to  be  as  clearly  and  as 
fairly  won  as  possible ; in  short,  as  if  I had  insisted  on  it  my- 
self the  next  morning. 

“ I have  said  more  perhaps  on  the  subject  than  can  be  neces- 


168 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


sary ; but  I should  regret  to  appear  negligent  to  an  application 
for  a just  claim. 

“ I have  the  honor  to  be, 

“ Sir, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

^'’Hertford  St  Feb,  26.  “ E.  B.  Sheridan.” 

Of  the  public  transactions  of  Sheridan  at  this  time,  his  speeches 
are  the  best  record.  To  them,  therefore,  I shall  henceforward 
principally  refer  my  readers, — premising,  that  though  the  reports 
of  his  latter  speeches  are  somewhat  better,  in  general,  than  those 
of  his  earlier  displays,  they  still  do  great  injustice  to  his  powers, 
and  exhibit  little  more  than  the  mere  Torso  of  his  eloquence, 
curtailed  of  all  those  accessories  that  lent  motion  and  beauty  to 
its  form.  The  attempts  to  give  the  terseness  of  his  wit  particu- 
larly fail,  and  are  a strong  illustration  of  what  he  himself  once 
said  to  Lord  * That  Nobleman,  who  among  his  many  jk- 
cellent  qualities  does  not  include  a very  lively  sense  of  humor^ 
having  exclaimed,  upon  hearing  some  good  anecdote  from  Sheri- 
dan, “ I’ll  go  and  tell  that  to  our  friend  Sheridan  called 

him  back  instantly  and  said,  with  much  gravity,  “ For  God’s 
sake,  don’t,  my  dear  ^ a joke  is  no  laughing  matter  in  your 
mouth.” 

It  is,  indeed,  singular,  that  all  the  eminent  English  orators — 
with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Burke  and  Mr.  Windham — should 
have  been  so  little  anxious  for  the  correct  transmission  of  their 
eloquence  to  posterity.  Had  not  Cicero  taken  more  care  of  even 
his  extemporaneous  effusions,  we  should  have  lost  that  masterly 
burst  of  the  moment,  to  which  the  clemency  of  Csesar  towards 
Marcellus  gave  birth.  The  beautiful  fragments  we  have  of  Lord 
Chatham  are  rather  traditional  than  recorded ; — there  are  but 
two,  I believe,  of  the  speeches  of  Mr.  Pitt  corrected  by  himself, 
those  on  the  Budget  of  1792,  and  on  the  Union  with  Ireland ; — 
Mr.  Fox  committed  to  writing  but  one  of  his,  namely,  the  tribute 
to  the  memory  of  the  Duke  of  Bedford  ; — and  the  only  speech  of 
Mr.  Sheridan,  that  is  huown  ^th  certainty  to  have  pass  wnde| 


RIGHT  HOK.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN. 


169 


his  own  revision,  was  that  which  he  made  at  the  opening  of  the 
following  session,  (1794,)  in  answer  to  Lord  Mornington. 

In  the  course  of  the  present  year  he  took  frequent  opportuni- 
ties of  expressing  his  disgust  at  that  spirit  of  ferocity  which  had 
so  deeply  disgraced  the  cause  of  the  Kevolution.  So  earnest  was 
his  interest  in  the  fate  of  the  Eoyal  Family  of  France,  that,  as 
appears  from  one  of  his  speeches,  he  drew  up  a paper  on  the 
subject,  and  transmitted  it  to  the  republican  rulers with  the 
view,  no  doubt,  of  conveying  to  them  the  feelings  of  the  English 
Opposition,  and  endeavoring  to  avert,  by  the  influence  of  his  own 
name  and  that  of  Mr.  Fox,  the  catastrophe  that  awaited  those 
Koyal  victims  of  liberty.  Of  this  interesting  document  I cannot 
discover  any  traces. 

In  one  of  his  answers  to  Burke  on  the  subject  of  the  French 
Eevolution,  adverting  to  the  charge  of  Deism  and  Atheism 
brought  against  the  republicans,  he  says, 

“As  an  argrument  to  the  feelings  and  passions  of  men,  the  Honorable 
Member  had  great  advantages  in  dwelling  on  this  topic  ; because  it  was  a 
subject  which  those  who  disliked  everything  that  had  the  air  of  cant  and 
profession  on  the  one  hand,  or  of  indifference  on  the  other,  found  it  awk- 
ward to  meddle  with.  Establishments,  tests,  and  matters  of  that  nature, 
were  proper  objects  of  political  discussion  in  that  House,  but  not  general 
charges  of  Atheism  and  Deism,  as  pressed  upon  their  consideration  by  the 
Honorable  Gentleman.  Thus  far,  however,  he  would  say,  and  it  was  an 
opinion  he  had  never  changed  or  concealed,  that,  although  no  man  can 
command  his  conviction,  he  had  ever  considered  a deliberate  disposition  to 
make  proselytes  in  infidelity  as  an  unaccountable  depravity.  Whoever  at- 
tempted to  pluck  the  belief  or  the  prejudice  on  this  subject,  style  it  which 
he  would,  from  the  bosom  of  one  man,  woman,  or  child,  committed  a bru- 
tal outrage,  the  motive  for  which  he  had  never  been  able  to  trace  or  con- 
ceive.** 

I quote  these  words  as  creditable  to  the  feeling  and  good 
sense  of  Sheridan.  Whatever  may  be  thought  of  particular 
faiths  and  sects,  a beiief  in  a life  beyond  this  world  is  the  only 
thing  that  pierces  through  the  walls  of  our  prison-house,  and  lets 
hope  shine  in  upon  a scene,  that  would  be  otherwise  bewildered 
and  desolate.  The  prosely  tism  of  the  Atheist  is,  indeed,  a dismal 
II,  § 


170 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


mission.  That  believers,  who  have  each  the  same  heaven  in 
prospect,  should  invite  us  to  join  them  on  their  respective  ways 
to  it,  is  at  least  a benevolent  officiousness, — but  that  he,  who  has 
no  prospect  or  hope  himself,  should  seek  for  companionship  in 
his  road  to  annihilation,  can  only  be  explained  by  that  tendency 
in  human  creatures  to  count  upon  each  other  in  their  despair,  as 
well  as  their  hope. 

In  the  speech  upon  his  own  motion  relative  to  the  existence  of 
seditious  practices  in  the  country,  there  is  some  lively  ridicule, 
upon  the  panic  then  prevalent.  For  instance: — 

The  alarm  had  been  brought  forward  in  great  pomp  and  form  on  Satur- 
day morning.  At  night  all  the  mail-coaches  were  stopped ; the  Duke  of 
Richmond  stationed  himself,  among  other  curiosities,  at  the  Tower  ; a great 
municipal  officer,  too,  had  made  a discovery  exceedingly  beneficial  to  the 
people  of  this  country.  He  meant  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  who  had 
found  out  that  there  was  at  the  King’s  Arms  at  Cornhill  a Debating  So' 
ciety,  where  principles  of  the  most  dangerous  tendency  were  propagated ; 
where  people  went  to  buy  treason  at  sixpence  a head ; where  it  was  retail- 
ed to  them  by  the  glimmering  of  an  inch  of  candle  ; and  five  minutes,  to  be 
measured  by  the  glass,  w^ere  allowed  to  each  traitor  to  perform  his  part  in 
overturning  the  State.” 

It  was  in  the  same  speech  that  he  gave  the  well-known  and 
happy  turn  to  the  motto  of  the  Sun  newspaper,  which  was  at  that 
time  known  to  be  the  organ  of  the  Alarmists.  “ There  was  one 
paper,”  he  remarked,  “ in  particular,  said  to  be  the  property  of 
members  of  that  House,  and  published  and  conducted  under  their 
immediate  direction,  which  had  for  its  motto  a garbled  part  of  a 
beautiful  sentence,  when  it  might,  with  much  more  propriety, 
have  assumed  the  whole — 

“ Solem  quis  dicer e falsum 
Audeat  ? llle  etiam  ccecos  instare  tumultus 
JScepe  monetf  fraudemque  et  operta  tumescere  bella.'^ 

Among  the  subjects  that  occupied  the  greatest  share  of  his 
attention  during  this  Session,  was  the  Memorial  of  Lord  Auck* 
land  to  the  States-General, — which  document  he  himself  brought 


. BIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  171 


under  the  notice  of  Parliament  as  deserving  of  severe  reproba- 
tion for  the  violent  and  vindictive  tone  which  it  assumed  towards 
the  Commissioners  of  the  National  Convention.  It  was  upon  one 
of  the  discussions  connected  with  this  subject  that  a dispute,  as 
to  the  correct  translation  of  the  word  “ malheureux^''  was  main- 
tained with  much  earnestness  between  him  and  Lord  Melville — ■ 
two  persons,  the  least  qualified,  perhaps,  of  any  in  the  House,  to 
volunteer  as  either  interpreters  or  pronouncers  of  the  Frencsn 
language.  According  to  Sheridan,  ‘‘  ces  malheureux'’’  v/as  to  be 
translated  “ these  wretches,”  while  Lord  Melville  contended,  to 
the  no  small  amusement  of  the  House,  that  ‘‘mo%roo,”  (as  he 
pronounced  it,)  meant  no  more  than  “ these  unfortunate  gentle- 
'men.” 

In  the  November  of  this  year  Mr.  Sheridan  lost  by  a kind  of 
death  which  must  have  deepened  the  feeling  of  the  loss,  the  most 
intimate  of  all  his  companions,  Tickell.  If  congeniality  of  dispo- 
sitions and  pursuits  were  always  a strengthener  of  affection,  the 
friendship  between  Tickell  and  Sheridan  ought  to  have  been  of 
the  most  cordial  kind  ; for  they  resembled  each  other  in  almost 
every  particular — in  their  wit,  their  wants,  their  talent,  and  their 
thoughtlessness.  It  is  but  too  true,  however,  that  friendship  in 
general  gains  far  less  by  such  a community  of  pursuit  than  it 
loses  by  the  competition  that  naturally  springs  out  of  it ; and 
that  two  wits  or  two  beauties  form  the  last  sort  of  alliance,  in 
which  we  ought  to  look  for  specimens  of  sincere  and  cordial  friend- 
ship. The  intercourse  between  Tickell  and  Sheridan  was  not  free 
from  such  collisions  of  vanity.  They  seem  to  have  lived,  indeed, 
in  a state  of  alternate  repulsion  and  attraction  ; and,  unable  to  do 
without  the  excitement  of  each  other’s  vivacity,  seldom  parted 
without  trials  of  temper  as  well  as  of  wit.  Being  both,  too, 
observers  of  character,  and  each  finding  in  the  other  rich  mate- 
rials for  observation,  their  love  of  ridicule  could  not  withstand 
such  a temptation,  and  they  freely  criticised  each  other  to  com- 
mon friends,  who,  as  is  usually  the  case,  agreed  with  both.  Still, 
however,  there  was  a whim  and  sprightliness  even  about  their 
mischief,  which  made  it  seem  rather  an  exercise  of  ingenuity  than 


172 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


an  indulgence  of  ill  nature ; and  if  they  had  not  carried  on  this 
intellectual  warfare,  neither  would  have  liked  the  other  half  so 
well. 

The  two  principal  productions  of  Tickell,  the  “Wreath  of 
Fashion”  and  “ Anticipation,”  were  both  upon  temporary  sub- 
jects, and  have  accordingly  passed  into  oblivion.  There  are, 
however,  some  graceful  touches  of  pleasantry  in  the  poem  ; and 
the  pamphlet,  (which  procured  for  him  not  only  fame  but  a place 
in  the  Stamp-office,)  contains  passages  of  which  the  application 
and  the  humor  have  not  yet  grown  stale.  As  Sheridan  is  the 
hero  of  the  W reath  of  Fashion,  it  is  but  right  to  quote  the  verses 
that  relate  to  him ; and  I do  it  with  the  more  pleasure,  because 
they  also  contain  a well-merited  tribute  to  Mrs.  Sheridan.  After 
a description  of  the  various  poets  of  the  day  that  deposit  their 
offerings  in  Lady  Millar’s  “Vase  of  Sentiment,”  the  author  thus 
proceeds : — 

At  Fashion’s  shrine  behold  a gentler  bard 
Gaze  on  the  mystic  vase  with  fond  regard — 

But  see,  Thalia  checks  the  doubtful  thought, 

^ Canst  thou,  (she  cries,)  with  sense,  with  genius  fraught, 

Canst  thou  to  Fashion’s  tyranny  submit, 

Secure  in  native,  independent  wit  ? 

Or  yield  to  Sentiment’s  insipid  rule. 

By  Taste,  by  Fancy,  chac’d  through  Scandal’s  school  ? 

Ah  no — be  Sheridan’s  the  comic  page. 

Or  let  me  fly  with  Garrick  from  the  stage. 

Haste  then,  my  friend,  (for  let  me  boast  that  name,) 

Haste  to  the  opening  path  of  genuine  fame  ; 

Or,  if  thy  muse  a gentler  theme  pursue, 

Ah,  ’tis  to  love  and  thy  Eliza  due ! 

For,  sure,  the  sweetest  lay  she  well  may  claim. 

Whose  soul  breathes  harmony  o’er  all  her  frame  ; 

While  wedded  love,  with  ray  serenely  clear. 

Beams  from  her  eye,  as  from  its  proper  sphere.” 

Ill  the  year  1781,  Tickell  brought  out  at  Drury-Lane  ^ ouera 
called  “The  Carnival  of  Venice,”  on  which  there  is  the  following 
remark  m Mrs,  CroucVs  Memoirs songs  in  this  piece 


illGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  1 


BO  perfectly  resemble  in  poetic  beauty  those  which  adorn  The 
Duenna,  that  they  declare  themselves  to  be  the  offspring  of  the 
same  muse.  ’ I know  not  how  far  this  conjecture  may  be 
founded,  but  there  are  four  pretty  lines  which  I remember  in 
this  opera,  a :d  which,  it  may  be  asserted  without  hesitation, 
Sheridan  never  wrote.  He  had  no  feeling  for  natural  scenery,^ 
nor  is  there  a trace  of  such  a sentiment  discoverable  through  his 
poetry.  The  following,  as  well  as  I can  recollect,  are  the  lines : — 

And  while  the  moon  shines  on  the  stream, 

And  as  soft  music  breathes  around, 

The  feathering  oar  returns  the  gleam. 

And  dips  in  concert  to  the  sound.’’ 

I have  already  given  a humorous  Dedication  of  the  Kivals^ 
written  by  Tickell  on  the  margin  of  a copy  of  that  play  in  my 
possession.  I shall  now  add  another  piece  of  still  more  happy 
humor,  with  which  he  has  filled,  in  very  neat  hand-writing,  the 
three  or  four  first  pages  of  the  same  copy.  • 

The  Rivals,  a Comedy — one  of  the  best  in  the  English  language — writ- 
ten as  long  ago  as  the  reign  of  George  the  Third.  The  author’s  name  was 
Sheridan — he  is  mentioned  by  the  historians  of  that  age  as  a man  of  un- 
common abilities,  very  little  improved  by  cultivation.  His  confidence  in 
the  resources  of  his  own  genius  and  his  aversion  to  any  sort  of  labor  were 
so  great  that  he  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  learn  either  to  read  or  write. 
He  was,  for  a short  time.  Manager  of  one  the  play-houses,  and  conceived 
the  extraordinary  and  almost  incredible  project  of  composing  a play  ex- 
tempore, which  he  was  to  recite  in  the  Green-room  to  the  actors,  who  were 
immediately  to  come  on  the  stage  and  perform  it.  The  players  refusing  to 
undertake  their  parts  at  so  short  a notice,  and  with  so  little  preparation,  he 
threw  up  the  management  in  dis^st. 

* In  corroboration  of  this  remark,  I have  been  allowed  to  quote  the  following  passage 
of  a letter  written  by  a very  eminent  person,  whose  name  all  lovers  of  the  Picturesque 
associate  with  iheir  best  enjoyment  of  its  beauties  : — 

“ At  one  time  I saw  a good  deal  of  Sheridan — he  and  his  first  wife  passed  some  time 
here,  and  he  is  an  instance  that  a taste  for  poetry  and  for  scenery  are  not  always  united. 
Had  this  house  been  in  the  midst  of  Hounslow  Heath,  he  could  not  have  taken  less  m- 
terest  in  all  ar  jund  it : his  delight  was  in  shooting,  all  and  every  day,  and  my  game- 
keeper  said  that  5f  all  the  gentlemen  with  he  never  knew  so  bad  a 

8hot.»» 


if 4:  MEMOIRS  OP  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

“ He  was  a member  of  the  last  Parliaments  that  were  summoned  in  Eng- 
land, and  signalized  himself  on  many  occasions  by  his  wit  and  eloquence, 
though  he  seldom  came  to  the  House  till  the  debate  was  nearly  concluded, 
and  never  spoke,  unless  he  was  drunk.  He  lived  on  a footing  of  great  in- 
timacy with  the  famous  Fox,  who  is  said  to  have  concerted  with  him  the 
audacious  attempt  which  he  made,  about  the  year  1783,  to  seize  the  whole 
property  of  the  East  India  Company,  amounting  at  that  time  to  above 
12,000,000^.  sterling,  and  then  to  declare  himself  Lord  Protector  of  the 
realm  by  the  title  of  Carlo  Khan.  This  desperate  scheme  actually  received 
the  consent  of  the  lower  House  of  Parliament,  the  majority  of  whom  were 
bribed  by  Fox,  or  intimidated  by  his  and  Sheridan’s  threats  and  violence  ; 
and  it  is  generally  believed  that  the  Revolution  would  have  taken  place*  if 
the  Lords  of  the  King’s  Bedchamber  had  not  in  a body  surrounded  the 
throne  and  shown  the  most  determined  resolution  not  to  abandon  their 
posts  but  with  their  lives.  The  usurpation  being  defeated.  Parliament  was 
dissolved  and  loaded  with  infamy.  Sheridan  was  one  of  the  few  members 
of  it  who  were  re-elected : — the  Burgesses  of  Stafford,  whom  he  had  kept 
in  a constant  state  of  intoxication  for  near  three  weeks,  chose  him  again  to 
represent  'them,  which  he  was  well  qualified  to  do. 

Fox’s  Whig  party  being  very  much  reduced,  or  rather  almost  annihi- 
lated, he  and  the  rest  of  the  conspirators  remained  quiet  for  some  time  ; 
till,  in  the  year  1788,  the  French,  in  conjunction  with  Tippoo  Sultan,  having 
suddenly  seized  and  divided  between  themselves  the  whole  of  the  British 
possessions  in  India,  the  East  India  Company  broke,  and  a national  bank- 
ruptcy was  apprehended.  During  this  confusion  Fox  and  his  partisans  as- 
sembled in  large  bodies,  and  made  a violent  attack  in  Parliament  on  Pitt, 
the  King’s  first  minister  : — Sheridan  supported  and  seconded  him.  Parlia- 
ment seemed  disposed  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  the  calamity  : the  na- 
tion was  almost  in  a state  of  actual  rebellion  ; and  it  is  impossible  for  us, 
at  the  distance  of  three  hundred  years,  to  form  any  judgment  what  dread- 
ful consequences  might  have  followed,  if  the  King,  by  the  advice  of  the 
Lords  of  the  Bedchamber,  had  not  dissolved  the  Parliament,  and  taken  the 
administration  of  affairs  into  his  own  hands,  and  those  of  a few  confidential 
servants,  at  the  head  of  whom  he  was  pleased  to  place  one  Mr.  Atkinson,  a 
merchant,  who  had  acquired  a handsome  fortune  in  the  Jamaica  trade,  and 
passed  universally  for  a man  of  unblemished  integrity.  His  Majesty  hav- 
ing now  no  farther  occasion  for  Pitt,  and  being  desirous  of  rewarding  him 
for  his  past  services,  and,  at  the  same  time,  finding  an  adequate  employ- 
ment for  his  great  talents,  caused  him  to  enter  into  holy  orders,  and  pre- 
sented him  with  the  Deanery  of  Windsor ; where  he  became  an  excellent 
preacher,  and  published  several  volumes  of  sermons,  all  of  which  are  now 
lost. 

To  return  to  Sheridan : — on  the  abrogation  of  Parliaments,  he  entered 


BIGHT  HON.  ElOHAED  BEINSLEY  SHEEIDAN.  176 


to  a closer  connection  than  ever  with  Fox  and  a few  others  of  lesser  note, 
forming  together  as  desperate  and  profligate  a gang  as  ever  disgraced  a 
civilized  country.  They  were  guilty  of  every  species  of  enormity,  and 
went  so  far  as  even  to  commit  robberies  on  the  highway,  with  a degree  of 
audacity  that  could  be  equalled  only  by  the  ingenuity  with  which  they  es- 
caped conviction.  Sheridan,  not  satisfied  with  eluding,  determined  to  mock 
the  justice  of  his  country,  and  composed  a Masque  called  ‘ The  Foresters,^ 
containing  a circumstantial  account  of  some  of  the  robberies  he  had  com- 
mitted, and  a good  deal  of  sarcasm  on  the  pusillanimity  of  those  whom  he 
dad  robbed,  and  the  inefncacy  of  the  penal  laws  of  the  kingdom.  This  piece 
was  acted  at  Drury-Lane  Theatre  with  great  applause,  to  the  astonishment 
of  all  sober  persons,  and  the  scandal  of  the  nation.  His  Majesty,  who  had 
long  wished  to  curb  the  licentiousness  of  the  press  and  the  theatres,  thought 
this  a good  opportunity.  He  ordered  the  performers  to  be. enlisted  into  the 
army,  the  play-house  to  be  shut  up,  and  all  theatrical  exhibitions  to  be  for- 
bid on  pain  of  death.  Drury-Lane  play-house  was  soon  after  converted  into 
a barrack  for  soldiers,  which  it  has  continued  to  be  ever  since.  Sheridan 
was  arrested,  and,  it  was  imagined,  would  have  suffered  the  rack,  if  he  had 
not  escaped  from  his  guard  by  a stratagem,  and  gone  over  to  Ireland  in  a 
balloon  with  which  his  friend  Fox  furnished  him.  Immediately  on  his  ar- 
rival in  Ireland,  he  put  himself  at  the  head  of  a party  of  the  most  violent 
eformers,  commanded  a regiment  of  Volunteers  at  the  siege  of  Dublin  in 
/91,  and  was  supposed  to  be  the  person  who  planned  the  scheme  for  tar- 
ing and  feathering  Mr.  Jenkinson,  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  and  forcing  him 
in  that  condition  to  sign  the  capitulation  of  the  Castle.  The  persons  who 
were  to  execute  this  strange  enterprise  had  actually  got  into  the  Lord  Lieu- 
tenant's apartment  at  midnight,  and  would  probably  have  succeeded  in  their 
project,  if  Sheridan,  who  was  intoxicated  with  whiskey,  a strong  liquor 
much  in  vogue  with  the  Volunteers,  had  not  attempted  to  force  open  the 

door  of  Mrs. ’s  bed-chamber,  and  so  given  the  alarm  to  the  garrison, 

who  instantly  flew  to  arms,  seized  Sheridan  and  every  one  of  his  party,  and 
confined  them  in  the  castle-dungeon.  Sheridan  was  ordered  for  execution 
the  next  day,  but  had  no  sooner  got  his  legs  and  arms  at  liberty,  than  he 
began  capering,  jumping,  dancing,  and  making  all  sorts  of  antics,  to  the 
utter  amazement  of  the  spectators.  When  the  chaplain  endeavored,  by  se- 
rious advice  and  admonition,  to  bring  him  to  a proper  sense  of  his  dreadful 
situation,  he  grinned,  made  faces  at  him,  tried  to  tickle  him,  and  played  a 
thousand  other  pranks  with  such  astonishing  drollery,  that  the  gravest 
countenances  became  cheerful,  and  the  saddest  hearts  glad.  The  soldiers 
who  attended  at  the  gallows  were  so  delighted  with  his  merriment,  which 
they  deemed  magnanimity,  that  the  sherifts  began  to  apprehend  a rescue, 
and  ordered  the  hangman  instantly  to  do  his  duty.  He  went  off  in  a loud 


176 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


horse-laugh,  and  cast  a look  towards  the  Castle,  accompanied  with  a ges^ 
ture  expressive  of  no  great  respect, 

*^Thus  ended  the  life  of  this  singular  and  unhappy  man— a melancholy 
instance  of  the  calamities  that  attend  the  misapplication  of  great  and 
splendid  ability.  He  was  married  to  a very  beautiful  and  amiable  woman, 
for  whom  he  is  said  to  have  entertained  an  unalterable  affection.  He  had 
one  son,  a boy  of  the  most  promising  hopes,  whom  he  would  never  suffer  to 
be  instructed  in  the  first  rudiments  of  literature.  He  amused  himself,  how- 
ever, with  teaching  the  boy  to  draw  portraits  with  his  toes,  in  which  he 
soon  became  so  astonishing  a proficient  that  he  seldom  failed  to  take  a 
most  exact  likeness  of  every  person  who  sat  to  him. 

“ There  are  a few  more  plays  by  the  same  author,  all  of  them  excellent. 

“For  further  information  concerning  this  strange  man,  vide  ‘ Macpher- 
son’s  Moral  History,’  Art.  Drunkenness.'  " 


lliGHT  HO^^.  EICHARD  BElis'SLEY  SHERIDAN.  if? 


CHAPTER  VII.' 

SPEECH  IN  ANSWER  TO  LORD  MORNINGTON.— COALITION 
OF  THE  WHIG  SECEDERS  WITH  MR.  PITT. — MR.  CANNING. 
— EVIDENCE  ON  THE  TRIAL  OF  HORNE  TOOKE, — THE 
“ GLORIOUS  FIRST  OF  JUNE.” — MARRIAGE  OF  MR.  SHERI- 
DAN. — PAMPHLET  OF  MR.  REEVES.  — DEBTS  OF  THE 
PRINCE  OF  WALES.  — SHAKSPEARE  MANUSCRIPTS. — 
TRIAL  OF  STONE. — MUTINY  AT  THE  NORE. — SECESSION 
OF  MR.  FOX  FROM  PARLIAMENT. 

In  the  year  1794,  the  natural  consequences  of  the  policy  pur- 
sued by  Mr.  Pitt  began  rapidly  to  unfold  themselves  both  at 
home  and  abroad."^  Ihe  confederated  Princes  of  the  Continent, 
among  whom  the  gold  of  England  was  now  the  sole  bond  of 
union,  had  succeeded  as  might  be  expected  from  so  noble  an 
incentive,  and,  powerful  only  in  provoking  France,  had  by  every 
step  they  took  but  ministered  to  her  aggrandizement.  In  the 
mean  time,  the  measures  of  the  English  Minister  at  home  were 
directed  to  the  tw^o  great  objects  of  his  legislation — the  raising 
of  supplies  and  the  suppressing  of  sedition  ; or,  in  other  wwds, 
to  the  double  and  anomalous  task  of  making  the  people  pay 
for  the  failures  of  their  Royal  allies,  and  suffer  for  their  sympa- 
thy with  the  success  of  their  republican  enemies.  It  is  the  opi- 
nion of  a learned  J esuit  that  it  was  by  aqua  regia  the  Golden 
Calf  of  the  Israelites  was  dissolved — and  the  cause  of  Kinss  was 

O 

* See,  for  a masterly  exposure  of  the  errors  of  the  War,  the  Speech  of  Lord  Lansdowne 
this  year  on  bringing  forward  his  Motion  for  Peace. 

I cannot  let  the  name  of  ihis  Nobleman  pass,  without  briefly  expressing  the  deep  grati- 
tude which  I feel  to  him,  not  only  for  his  own  kindness  to  me,  when  introduced,  as  a boy 
to  nis  notice,  but  for  the  friendship  of  his  truly  Noble  descendant,  which  I,  in  a great  de- 
gree, owe  to  him,  and  which  has  long  been  the  pride  and  happiness  of  my  life. 

VOL.  II.  8* 


178  Memoirs  of  the  life  of  th^I 

the  Royal  solvent,  in  which  the  wealth  of  Great  Britain  now 
melted  irrecoverably  away.  While  the  successes,  too,  of  the 
French  had  already  low'ered  the  tone  of  the  Minister  from  pro- 
jects of  aggression  to  precautions  of  defence,  the  wounds  which,  in 
the  wantonness  of  alarm,  he  had  inflicted  on  the  liberties  of  the 
country,  were  spreading  an  inflammation  around  them  that  threat- 
ened real  danger.  The  severity  of  the  sentence  upon  Muir  and 
Palmer  in  Scotland,  and  the  daring  confidence  with  which  charges 
of  High  Treason  were  exhibited  against  persons  who  were,  at  the 
worst,  but  indiscreet  reformers,  excited  the  apprehensions  of  even 
the  least  sensitive  friends  of  freedom.  It  is,  indeed,  difficult  to 
say  how  far  the  excited  temper  of  the  Government,  seconded  by 
the  ever  ready  subservience  of  state-lawyers  and  bishops,  might 
have  proceeded  at  this  moment,  had  not  the  acquittal  of  Tooke 
and  his  associates,  and  the  triumph  it  diffused  through  the  coun- 
try,  given  a lesson  to  Power  such  as  England  is  alone  capable  of 
giving,  and  which  will  long  be  remembered,  to  the  honor  of  that 
great  political  safeguard, — that  Life-preserver  in  stormy  times, 
— the  Trial  by  Jury. 

At  the  opening  of  the  Session,  Mr.  Sheridan  delivered  his 
admirable  answer  to  Lord  Mornington,  the  report  of  which,  as  I 
have  already  said,  was  corrected  for  publication  by  himself.  In 
this  fine  speech,  of  which  the  greater  part  must  have  been  unpre- 
pared, there  is  a natural  earnestness  of  feeling  and  argument  that 
is  well  contrasted  with  the  able  but  artificial  harangue  that  pre- 
ceded it.  In  referring  to  the  details  which  Lord  Mornington  had 
entered  into  of  the  various  atrocities  committed  in  France,  he 
says : — 

But  what  was  the  sum  of  all  that  he  had  told  the  House  ? that  great 
aud  dreadful  enormities  had  been  committed,  at  which  the  heart  shuddered, 
and  which  not  merely  wounded  every  feeling  of  humanity,  but  disgusted 
and  sickened  the  soul.  All  this  was  most  true  ; but  what  did  all  this  prove  ? 
What,  but  that  eternal  and  unalterable  truth  which  had  always  presented 
itself  to  his  mind,  in  whatever  way  he  had  viewed  the  subject,  namely, 
that  a long  established  despotism  so  far  degraded  and  debased  human  na- 
ture, as  to  render  its  subjects,  on  the  first  recovery  of  their  rights,  unfit  for 
the  exercise  of  them.  But  never  hacl  he,  or  would  he  meet  but  with  re- 


RIGHT  flON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  179 


probation  that  mode  of  argument  which  went,  in  fact,  to  establish,  as  an 
inference  from  this  truth,  that  those  who  had  been  long  slaves,  ought  there^ 
fore  to  remain  so  for  ever ! No  ; the  lesson  ought  to  be.  he  would  again 
repeat,  a tenfold  horror  of  that  despotic  form  of  government,  which  had 
60  profaned  and  changed  the  nature  of  civilized  man,  and  a still  more  jea- 
lous apprehension  of  any  system  tending  to  withhold  the  rights  and  liber- 
ties of  our  fellow-creatures.  Such  a form  of  government  might  be  con- 
sidered as  twice  cursed  ; while  it  existed,  it  was  solely  responsible  for  the 
miseries  and  calamities  of  its  subjects ; and  should  a day  of  retribution 
come,  and  the  tyranny  be  destroyed,  it  was  equally  to  be  charged  with  all 
the  enormities  which  the  folly  or  frenzy  of  those  who  overturned  it  should 
commit. 

But  the  madness  of  the  French  people  was  not  confined  to  their  pro- 
ceedings within  their  own  country  ; we,  and  all  the  Powers  of  Europe,  had 
to  dread  it.  True  ; but  was  not  this  also  to  be  accounted  for  ? Wild  and 
unsettled  as  their  state  of  mind  was,  necessarily,  upon  the  events  which 
had  thrown  such  power  so  suddenly  into  their  hands,  the  surrounding  States 
had  goaded  them  into  a still  more  savage  state  of  madness,  fury,  and  des- 
peration. We  had  unsettled  their  reason,  and  then  reviled  their  insanity  ; 
we  drove  them  to  the  extremities  that  produced  the  evils  we  arraigned  ; 
we  baited  them  like  wild  beasts,  until  at  length  we  made  them  so.  The 
conspiracy  of  Pilnitz,  and  the  brutal  threats  of  the  Royal  abettors  of  that 
plot  against  the  rights  of  nations  and  of  men,  had,  in  truth,  to  answer  for 
all  the  additional  misery,  horrors,  and  iniquity,  which  had  since  disgraced 
and  incensed  humanity.  Such  has  been  your  conduct  towards  France,  that 
you  have  created  the  passions  which  you  persecute  ; you  mark  a nation  to 
be  cut  off  from  the  world ; you  covenant  for  their  extermination  ; you 
swear  to  hunt  them  in  their  inmost  recesses  ; you  load  them  with  every 
species  of  execration ; and  you  now  come  forth  with  whining  declama- 
tions on  the  horror  of  their  turning  upon  you  with  the  fury  which  you  in- 
spired.’’ 

Having  alluded  to  an  assertion  of  Condorcet,  quoted  by  Lord 
Mornington,  that  “ Revolutions  are  always  the  work  of  the  mino- 
rity,” he  adds  livelily  : — 

If  this  be  jfcrue,  it  certainly  is  a most  ominous  thing  for  the  enemies  of 
Reform  in  England  ; for,  if  it  holds  true,  of  necessity,  that  the  minority 
still  prevails,  in  national  contests,  it  must  be  a consequence  that  the  smaller 
the  minority  the  more  certain  must  be  the  success.  In  what  a dreadful  sit- 
uation then  must  the  Noble  Lord  be  and  all  the  Alarmists !— for,  never 
surely  was  a minority  so  small,  so  thin  in  number  as  the  present.  Con- 


180 


MEMOIRS  OF■^HE  LIFE  OF  TME 


scious,  however,  that  M.  Condorcet  was  mistaken  in  our  object,  I am  glad 
to  find  that  we  are  terrible  in  proportion  as  we  are  few  ; I rejoice  that  the 
liberality  of  secession  which  has  thinned  our  ranks  has  only  served  to  make 
us  more  formidable.  The  Alarmists  will  hear  this  with  new  apprehensions ; 
they  will  no  doubt  return  to  us  with  a view  to  diminish  our  force,  and  en- 
cumber us  with  their  alliance  in  order  to  reduce  us  to  insignificance.’’ 

We  have  here  another  instance,  in  addition  to  the  many  that  have 
been  given,  of  the  beauties  that  sprung  up  under  Sheridan’s  cor- 
recting hand.  This  last  pointed  sentence  was  originally  thus : 
“ And  we  shall  swell  our  numbers  in  order  to  come  nearer  in  a 
balance  of  insignificance  to  the  numerous  host  of  the  majority.” 

It  was  at  this  time  evident  that  the  great  Whig  Seceders  would 
soon  yield  to  the  invitations  of  Mr.  Pitt  and  the  vehement  per- 
suasions of  Burke,  and  commit  themselves  still  further  with  the 
x^Ldministration  by  accepting  of  office.  Though  the  final  arrange- 
ments to  this  efiect  were  not  completed  till  the  summer,  on 
account  of  the  lingering  reluctance  of  the  Duke  of  Portland  and 
Mr.  Windham,  Lord  Loughborough  and  others  of  the  former 
Opposition  had  already  put  on  the  official  livery  of  the  Minister. 
It  is  to  be  regretted  that,  in  almost  all  cases  of  conversion  to  the 
side  of  power,  the  coincidence  of  some  worldly  advantage  with 
the  change  should  make  it  difficult  to  decide  upon  the  sincerity 
or  disinterestedness  of  the  convert.  That  these  Noble  Whigs 
were  sincere  in  their  alarm  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt ; but  the 
lesson  of  loyalty  they  have  transmitted  would  have  been  far 
more  edifying,  had  the  usual  corollary  of  honors  and  emoluments 
not  followed,  and  had  they  left  at  least  one  instance  of  political 
conversion  on  record,  wdiere  the  truth  was  its  own  sole  reward, 
and  the  proselyte  did  not  subside  into  the  placeman.  Mr.  She- 
ridan w^as  naturally  indignant  at  these  desertions,  and  his  bitter- 
ness overflows  in  many  passages  of  the  speech  before  us.  Lord 
Mornington  having  contrasted  the  privations  and  sacrifices 
demanded  of  the  French  by  their  Minister  of  Finance  with  those 
required  of  the  English  nation,  he  says  in  answer : — 

‘‘  The  Noble  Lord  need  not  remind  us,  that  there  is  no  great  danger  of 
our  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  making  an^>  such  experiment.  I can  more 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  181 


easily  fancy  another  sort  of  speech  for  our  prudent  Minister.  I can  more 
easily  conceive  him  modestly  comparing  himself  and  his  own  measures  with 
the  character  and  conduct  of  his  rival,  and  saying, — ‘ Pol  demand  of  you, 
wealthy  citizens,  to  lend  your  hoards  to  Government  without  interest  ? On 
the  contrary,  when  I shall  come  to  propose  a loan,  there  is  not  a man  of  you 
to  whom  I shall  not  hold  out  at  least  a job  in  every  part  of  the  subscription, 
and  an  usurious  profit  upon  every  pound  you  devote  to  the  necessities  oi 
your  country.  Do  I demand  of  you,  my  fellow-placemen  and  brother-pen- 
sioners, that  you  should  sacrifice  any  part  of  your  stipends  to  the  public 
exigency  ? On  the  contrary,  am  I not  daily  increasing  your  emoluments 
and  your  numbers  in  proportion  as  the  country  becomes  unable  to  provide 
for  you  ? Do  I require  of  you,  my  latest  and  most  zealous  proselytes,  of 
you  who  have  come  over  to  me  for  the  special  purpose  of  supporting  the 
war — a war,  on  the  success  of  which  you  solemnly  protest,  that  the  salva- 
tion of  Britain,  and  of  civil  society  itself,  depend — do  I require  of  you,  that 
you  should  make  a temporary  sacrifice,  in  the  cause  of  human  nature,  of 
the  greater  part  of  your  private  incomes  ? No,  gentlemen,  I scorn  to  take 
advantage  of  the  eagerness  of  your  zeal  ; and  to  prove  that  I think  the 
sincerity  of  your  attachment  to  me  needs  no  such  test,  I will  make  your 
interest  co-operate  with  your  principle  : I will  quarter  many  of  you  on  the 
public  supply,  instead  of  calling  on  you  to  contribute  to  it  ; and,  while 
their  whole  thoughts  are  absorbed  in  patriotic  apprehensions  for  their 
country,  I will  dexterously  force  upon  others  the  favorite  objects  of  the 
vanity  or  ambition  of  their  lives.’  ****>* 

* * * * *.***** 
“ Good  God,  Sir,  that  he  should  have  thought  it  prudent  to  have  forced 
this  contrast  upon  our  attention  ; that  he  should  triumphantly  remind  us 
of  everything  that  shame  should  have  withheld,  and  caution  would  have 
buried  in  oblivion ! Will  those  who  stood  forth  with  a parade  of  disinter- 
ested patriotism,  and  vaunted  of  the  sacrifices  they  had  made,  and  the  ex- 
posed situation  they  had  chosen,  in  Older  the  better  to  oppose  the  friends 
of  Brissot  in  England — will  they  thank  the  Noble  Lord  for  reminding  us 
how  soon  these  lofty  professions  dwindled  into  little  jobbing  pursuits  for 
followers  and  dependents,  as  unfit  to  fill  the  offices  procured  for  them,  as 
the  offices  themselves  were  unfit  to  be  created  ? — Will  the  train  of  newly 
titled  alarmists,  of  supernumerary  negotiators,  of  pensioned  paymasters, 
agents  and  commissaries,  thank  him  for  remarking  to  us  how  profitable 
their  panic  has  been  to  themselves,  and  how  expensive  to  their  country  ? 
What  a contrast,  indeed,  do  we  exhibit ! — What ! in  such  an  hour  as  this,  at 
a moment  pregnant  with  the  national  fate,  when,  pressing  as  the  exigency 
may  be,  the  hard  task  of  squeezing  the  money  from  the  pockets  of  an  im- 
poverished people,  from  tlie  toil,  the  drudgery  of  the  shivering  poor,  must 
make  the  most  practised  collector’s  heart  ache  while  he  tears  it  from  them 


182 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


—can  it  be,  that  people  of  high  rank,  and  professing  high  principles,  that 
they  or  their  families  should  seek  to  thrive  on  the  spoils  of  misery,  and  fat- 
ten on  the  meals  wrested  from  industrious  poverty  ? Can  it  be,  that  this 
should  be  the  case  with  the  very  persons,  who  state  the  unprecedented  peril 
of  the  country  as  the  sole  cause  of  their  being  found  in  the  ministerial  ranks " 
The  Constitution  is  in  danger,  religion  is  in  danger,  the  very  existence  of 
the  nation  itself  is  endangered  ; all  personal  and  party  considerations  ought 
to  vanish  ; the  war  must  be  supported  by  every  possible-  exertion,  and  by 
every  possible  sacrifice  ; the  people  must  not  murmur  at  their  burdens,  it 
is  for  their  salvation,  their  all  is  at  stake.  The  time  is  come,  when  all 
honest  and  disinterested  men  should  rally  round  the  Throne  as  round  a 
standard  ; — for  what  ? ye  honest  and  disinterested  men,  to  receive,  for  your 
own  private  emolument,  a portion  of  those  very  taxes  wrung  from  the  peo- 
ple on  the  pretence  of  saving  them  from  the  poverty  and  distress  which 
you  say  the  enemy  would  infiict,  but  which  you  take  care  no  enemy  shall 
be  able  to  aggravate.  Oh!  shame!  shame!  is  this  a time  for  selfish  in- 
trigues, and  the  little  dirty  traffic  for  lucre  and  emolument  ? Does  it  suit 
the  honor  of  a gentleman  to  ask  at  such  a moment  ? Does  it  become  the 
honesty  of  a Minister  to  grant  ? Is  it  intended  to  confirm  the  pernicious 
doctrine,  so  industriously  propagated  by  many,  that  all  public  men  are 
impostors,  and  that  every  politician  has  his  price  ? Or  even  where  there 
is  no  principle  in  the  bosom,  why  does  not  prudence  hint  to  the  mercenary 
and  the  vain  to  abstain  a while  at  least,  and  wait  the  fitting  of  the  times? 
Improvident  impatience  I Nay,  even  from  those  who  seem  to  have  no  di- 
rect object  of  office  or  profit,  what  is  the  language  which  their  actions 
speak  ? The  Throne  is  in  danger! — ‘ we  will  support  the  Throne  ; but  let 
us  share  the  smiles  of  Royalty;^ — the  order  of  Nobility  is  in  danger! — ‘ I 
will  fight  for  Nobility,^  says  the  Viscount,  ^ but  my  zeal  would  be  much 
greater  if  I were  made  an  Earl.’  ^ Rouse  all  the  Marquis  within  me,’  ex- 
claims the  Earl,  ‘ and  the  peerage  never  turned  forth  a more  undaunted 
champion  in  its  cause  than  I shall  prove.’  ‘ Stain  my  green  riband  blue,’ 
cries  out  the  illustrious  Knight,  ‘ and  the  fountain  of  honor  will  have  a 
fast  and  faithful  servant.’  What  are  the  pecf^le  to  think  of  our  sincerity  ? — 
What  credit  are  they  to  give  to  our  professions  ? — Is  this  system  to  be  per- 
severed in  ? Is  there  nothing  that  whispers  to  that  Right  Honorable  Gen- 
tleman that  the  crisis  is  too  big,  that  the  times  are  too  gigantic,  to  be  ruled 
by  the  little  hackneyed  and  every-day  means  of  ordinary  corruption  ?” 

The  discussions,  indeed,  during  the  whole  of  this  Session,  were 
marked  by  a degree  of  personal  acrimony,  which  in  the  present 
more  sensitive  times  would  hardly  be  borne.  Mr.  Pitt  and  Mr. 
Sheridan  carne,  most  of  all^  into  collision;  and  the  retorts  of  th^ 


EIGHT  HON.  BICHAED  BEINSLEY  SHEEIDAN.  188 


Minister  not  unfrequently  proved  with  what  weight  the  haughty 
sarcasms  of  Power  may  descend  even  upon  the  tempered  buck- 
ler of  Wit. 

It  was  in  this  Session,  and  on  the  question  of  the  Treaty  with 
the  King  of  Sardinia,  that  Mr.  Canning  made  his  first  appearance, 
as  an  orator,  in  the  House.  He  brought  with  him  a fame,  already 
full  of  promise,  and  has  been  one  of  the  brightest  ornaments  of 
the  senate  and  the  country  ever  since.  From  the  political  faith 
•*in  which  he  had  been  educated,  under  the  very  eyes  of  Mr. 
Sheridan,  who  had  long  been  the  friend  of  his  family,  and  at 
whose  house  he  generally  passed  his  college  vacations,  the  line 
that  he  was  to  take  in  the  House  of  Commons  seemed  already, 
according  to  the  usual  course  of  events,  marked  out  for  him. 
Mr.  Sheridan  had,  indeed,  with  an  eagerness  which,  however 
premature,  showed  the  value  which  he  and  others  set  upon  the 
alliance,  taken  occasion  in  the  course  of  a laudatory  tribute  to 
Mr.  Jenkinson,^  on  the  success  of  his  first  effort  in  the  House,  to 
announce  the  accession  which  his  own  party  was  about  to  receive, 
in  the  talents  of  another  gentleman,— the  companion  and  friend 
of  the  young  orator  who  had  now  distinguished  himself.  Whe- 
ther this  and  other  friendships,  formed  by  Mr.  Canning  at  the 
University,  had  any  share  in  alienating  him  from  a political  creed, 
which  he  had  hitherto,  perhaps,  adopted  rather  from  habit  and 
authority  than  choice — or,  whether  he  was  startled  at  the  idea  of 
appearing  for  the  first  time  in  the  world,  as  the  announced  pupil 
and  friend  of  a person  who,  both  by  the  vehemence  of  his  politics 
and  the  irregularities  of  his  life,  had  put  himself,  in  some  degree, 
under  the  ban  of  public  opinion — or  whether,  lastly,  he  saw  the 
difficulties  which  even  genius  like  his  would  experience,  in  rising 
to  the  full  growth  of  its  ambition,  under  the  shadowing  branches 
of  the  Whig  aristocracy,  and  that  superseding  influence  of  birth 
and  connections,  which  had  contributed  to  keep  even  such  men  as 
Burke  and  Sheridan  out  of  the  Cabinet — which  of  these  motives 
it  was  that  now  decided  the  choice  of  the  young  political  Her- 
cules,  between  the  two  paths  that  equally  wooed  his  footsteps 
lione,  perhaps,  but  himself  can  fully  determine.  His  decision^ 

* Kow  Lord  Liyerpool. 


184 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


we  know,  was  in  faror  of  the  Minister  and  Toryism ; and,  after 
a friendly  and  candid  explanation  to  Sheridan  of  the  reasons  and 
feelings  that  urged  him  to  this  step,  he  entered  into  terms  with 
Mr.  Pitt,  and  was  by  him  immediately  brought  into  Parliament. 

However  dangerous  it  might  be  to  exalt  such  an  example  into 
a precedent,  it  is  questionable  whether,  in  thus  resolving  to  join 
the  ascendant  side,  Mr.  Canning  has  not  conferred  a greater 
benefit  on  the  country  than  he  ever  would  have  been  able  to 
effect  in  the  ranks  of  his  original  friends.  That  Party,  which  has 
now  so  long  been  the  sole  depository  of  the  power  of  the  State, 
had,  in  addition  to  the  original  narrowness  of  its  principles, 
contracted  all  that  proud  obstinacy,  in  antiquated  error,  which  is 
the  invariable  characteristic  of  such  monopolies ; and  which, 
however  consonant  with  its  vocation,  as  the  chosen  instrument  of 
the  Crown,  should  have  long  since  invalided  it  in  the  service  of 
a free  and  enlightened  people. , Some  infusion  of  the  spirit  of 
the  times  into  this  body  had  become  necessary,  even  for  its  own 
preservation, — in  the  same  manner  as  the  inhalement  of  youthful 
breath  has  been  recommended,  by  some  physicians,  to  the  infirm 
and  superannuated.  This  renovating  inspiration  the  genius  of 
Mr.  Canning  has  supplied.  His  first  political  lessons  wxre  de- 
rived from  sources  too  sacred  to  his  young  admiration  to  be 
forgotten.  He  has  carried  the  spirit  of  these  lessons  with  him 
into  the  councils  which  he  joined,  and  by  the  vigor  of  the  graft, 
which  already,  indeed,  shows  itself  in  the  fruits,  bids  fair  to 
change  altogether  the  nature  of  Toryism. 

Among  the  eminent  persons  summoned  as  witnesses  on  the 
Trial  of  Horne  Tooke,  which  took  place  in  November  of  this 
year,  was  Mr.  Sheridan ; and,  as  his  evidence  contains  some 
curious  particulars,  both  with  regard  to  himself  and  the  state  of 
political  feeling  in  the  year  1790,  I shall  here  transcribe  a part 
of  it : — 

He,  (Mr.  Sheridan,)  said  he  recollects  a meeting  to  celebrate  the  esta- 
blishment of  liberty  in  France  in  the  year  1790.  Upon  that  occasion  he 
moved  a Resolution  drawn  up  the  day  before  by  the  Whig  club.  Mr. 
Horne  Tooke,  he  says,  made  no  objection  to  his  motion,  but  proposed  aa 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  185 


/ 

amendment.  Mr.  Tooke  stated  that  an  unqualified  approbation  of  the 
French  Revolution,' in  the  terms  moved,  might  produce  an  ill  effect  out  of 
doors,  a disposition  to  a revolution  in  this  country,  or,  at  least,  be  misrepre- 
sented to  have  that  object ; he  adverted  to  the  circumstance  of  their  hav- 
ing all  of  them  national  cockades  in  their  hats  ; he  proposed  to  add  some 
qualifying  expression  to  the  approbation  of  the  French  Revolution,  a de- 
claration of  attachment  to  the  principles  of  our  own  Constitution  ; he  said 
Mr.  Tooke  spoke  in  a figurative  manner  of  the  former  Government  of 
France  ; he  described  it  as  a vessel  so  foul  and  decayed,  that  no  repair 
could  save  it  from  destruction,  that  in  contrasting  our  state  with  that,  he 
said,  thank  God,  the  main  timbers  of  our  Constitution  are  sound  ; he  had 
before  observed,  however,  that  some  reforms  might  be  necessary  ; he  said 
that  sentiment  was  received  with  great  disapprobation,  and  with  very  rude 
interruption,  insomuch  that  Lord  Stanhope,  who  was  in  the  chair,  inter- 
fered ; he  said  it  had  happened  to  him,  in  many  public  meetings,  to  diifei 
with  and  oppose  the  prisoner,  and  that  he  has  frequently  seen  him  receiv- 
ed with  very  considerable  marks  of  disapprobation,  but  he  never  saw  them 
affect  him  much  ; he  said  that  he  himself  objected  to  Mr.  Lookers  amend- 
ment ; he  thinks  he  withdrew  his  amendment,  and  moved  it  as  a separate 
motion  ; he  said  it  was  then  carried  as  unanimously  as  his  own  motion  had 
been  ; that  original  motion  and  separate  motion  are  in  these  words: — ‘ That 
this  meeting  does  most  cordially  rejoice  in  the  establishment  and  confirma- 
tion of  liberty  in  France  ; and  it  beholds  with  peculiar  satisfaction  the  senti- 
ments of  amity  and  good  will  wLich  appear  to  pervade  the  people  of  that 
country  towards  this  kingdom,  especially  at  a time  when  it  is  the  manifest 
interest  of  both  states  that  nothirjg  should  interrupt  the  harmony  which  at 
present  subsists  between  them,  and  which  is  so  essentially  necessary  to  the 
freedom  and  happiness,  not  only  of  the  French  nation,  but  of  all  mankind.’ 
Mr.  Tooke  wished  to  add  to  his  motion  some  qualifying  clause,  to  guard 
against  misunderstanding  and  misrepresentation  : — that  there  w^as  a wide 
difference  between  England  and  France  5 that  in  France  the  vessel  was  so 
foul  and  decayed,  that  no  repair  could  save  it  from  destruction,  whereas 
in  England,  w^e  had  a noble  and  stately  vessel,  sailing  proudly  on  the  bosom 
of  the  ocean  ; that  her  main  timbers  were  sound,  though  it  was  true,  after 
so  long  a course  of  years,  she  might  want  some  repairs.  Mr.  Tooke’s  mo- 
tion was, — ‘ That  we  feel  equal  satisfaction  that  the  subjects  of  England, 
by  the  virtuous  exertions  of  their  ancestors,  have  not  so  arduous  a task  to 
perform  as  the  French  have  had,  but  have  only  to  maintain  and  improve 
the  Constitution  which  their  ancestors  have  transmitted  to  them.’-^  This 
was  carried  unanimously.” 


The  trial  of  Warren  Hastings  still  “ dragged  its  slow  length 


186 


MEM0IK3  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


along,”  and  in  the  May  of  this  year  Mr.  Sheridan  was  called  upon 
for  his  Reply  on  the  Begum  Charge.  It  was  usual,  on  these  oc- 
casions, for  the  Manager  who  spoke  to  be  assisted  by  one  of  his 
brother  Managers,  whose  task  it  was  to  carry  the  bag  that  con- 
tained his  papers,  and  to  read  out  whatever  Minutes  might  be 
referred  to  in  the  course  of  the  argument.  Mr.  Michael  Angelo 
Taylor  was  the  person  who  undertook  this  office  for  Sheridan ; 
but,  on  the  morning  of  the  speech,  upon  his  asking  for  the  bag  that 
he  was  to  carry,  he  was  told  by  Sheridan  that  there  was  none — 
neither  bag  nor  papers.  They  must  manage,  he  said,  as  well  as  they 
could  without  them ; — and  when  the  papers  were  called  for,  his 
friend  must  only  put  the  best  countenance  he  could  upon  it.  As 
for  himself,  “ he  would  abuse  Ned  Law — ridicule  Plumer’s  long 
orations — make  the  Court  laugh — please  the  women,  and,  in  short, 
with  Taylor’s  aid  would  get  triumphantly  through  his  task.”  His 
opening  of  the  case  was  listened  to  with  the  profoundest  atten- 
tion ; but  when  he  came  to  contrast  the  evidence  of  the  Com- 
mons with  that  adduced  by  Hastings,  it  was  not  long  before  the 
Chancellor  interrupted  him,  with  a request  that  the  printed  Min- 
utes to  which  he  referred  should  be  read.  Sheridan  answered 
that  his  friend  Mr.  Taylor  would  read  them  ; and  Mr.  Taylor 
affected  to  send  for  the  bag,  while  the  orator  begged  leave,  in  the 
meantime,  to  proceed.  Again,  however,  his  statements  rendered 
a reference  to  the  Minutes  necessary,  and  again  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  Chancellor,  while  an  outcry  after  Mr.  Sheridan’s 
bag  was  raised  in  all  directions.  At  first  the  blame  was  laid  on 
the  solicitor’s  clerk — then  a messenger  was  dispatched  to  Mr. 
Sheridan’s  house.  In  the  meantime,  the  orator  was  proceeding 
brilliantly  and  successfully  in  his  argument ; and,  on  some  fur- 
thei  interruption  and  expostulation  from  the  Chancellor,  raised 
his  voice  and  said,  in  a dignified  tone,  ‘‘  On  the  part  of  the  Com- 
mons, and  as  a Manager  of  this  Impeachment,  I shall  conduct  my 
case  as  I think  proper.  I mean  to  be  correct,  and  Your  Lord- 
ships,  having  the  printed  Minutes  before  you,  will  afterwards  see 
whether  I am  right  or  wrong.”  ^ 

J)uring  the  bustle  produced  by  the  inquiries  after  the  bag,  Mr* 


EIGHT  HOH.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  187 


Fox,  alarmed  at  the  inconvenienee  which,  he  feared,  the  want  of 
it  might  occasion  Sheridan,  ran  up  from  the  Managers’  room,  and 
demanded  eagerly  the  cause  of  this  mistake  from  Mr.  Taylor ; 
who,  hiding  his  mouth  with  his  hand,  whispered  him,  (m  a tone 
of  which  they  alone,  who  have  heard  this  gentleman  relate  the 
anecdote,  can  feel  the  full  humor,)  “ The  man  has  no  bag  !” 

The  whole  of  this  characteristic  contrivance  was  evidently  in- 
tended by  Sheridan  to  raise  that  sort  of  surprise  at  the  readiness 
of  his  resources,  which  it  was  the  favorite  triumph  of  his  vanity 
to  create.  I have  it  on  the  authority  of  Mr.  William  Smythe, 
that,  previously  to  the  delivery  of  this  speech,  he  passed  two  or 
three  days  alone  at  Wanstead,  so  occupied  from  morning  till 
night  in  writing  and  reading  of  papers,  as  to  complain  in  the 
evenings  that  he  ‘‘  had  motes  before  his  eyes.”  This  mixture  of 
real  labor  with  apparent  carelessness  was,  indeed,  one  of  the  most 
curious  features  of  his  life  and  character. 

Together  with  the  political  contests  of  this  stormy  year,  he 
had  also  on  his  mind  the  cares  of  his  new  Theatre,  which  opened 
on  the  21st  of  April,  with  a prologue,  not  by  himself,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  but  by  his  friend  General  Fitzpatrick.  He 
found  time,  however,  to  assist  in  the  rapid  manufacture  of  a little 
piece  called  “ The  Glorious  First  of  June,”  which  was  acted  im- 
mediately after  Lord  Howe’s  victory,  and  of  which  I have  found 
some  sketches*  in  Sheridan’s  hand-writing, — though  the  dialogue 

* One  of  these  is  as  follows 

“ Scene  I. — Miss  Leake — Miss  Decamp — WaUh. 

“ Short  dialogue — ^Nancy  persuading  Susan  to  go  to  the  Fair,  where  there  is  an  entertain 
ment  to  be  given  by  the  Ixird  of  the  Manor — Susan  melancholy  because  Henry,  her  lover, 
is  at  sea  with  the  British  Admiral — Song — Her  old  mother  scolds  from  the  cottage — her 
little  brother  ( Walsh)  comes  from  the  house,  with  a message — laughs  at  his  sister’s  fears 
and  sings— 2Wo. 

“ Scene  H. — The  Fair. 

“ Puppet-show — dancing  bear — bells — hurdy-gurdy — ^recruiting  party — song  and  chorus 

D’Egville. 

“ Susan  snys  she  has  no  pleasure,  and  will  go  and  take  a solitary  w'alk. 

“Scene  IH. — Dark  Wood. 

‘ Susan — ^gipsy — tells  her  fortune — recitative  and  (Jilty. 


188 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


was,  no  doubt,  supplied  (as  Mr.  Boaden  says,)  by  G)bb,  or  some 
other  such  pedissequus  of  the  Dramatic  Muse.  This  piece  was 
written,  rehearsed,  and  acted  within  three  days.  The  first  opera- 
tion of  Mr.  Sheridan  towards  it  was  to  order  the  meAianist  of 
the  theatre  to  get  ready  two  fleets.  It  was  in  vain  that  ob- 
jections were  started  to  the  possibility  of  equipping  these  paste- 
board armaments  in  so  short  an  interval — Lord  Chatham’s  fa- 
mous order  to  Lord  Anson  was  not  more  peremptory.*  The 
two  fleets  were  accordingly  ready  at  the  time,  and  the  Duke  of 
Clarence  attended  the  rehearsal  of  their  evolutions.  This  mix 
ture  of  the  cares  of  the  Statesman  and  the  Manager  is  one  of 
those  whimsical  peculiarities  that  made  Sheridan’s  own  life  so 
dramatic,  and  formed  a compound  altogether  too  singular  ever 
to  occur  again. 

“ Scene  IV. 

“ Sea-Fight — hell  and  the  devil  ! 

“ Henry  and  Susan  meet — Chorus  introducing  burden, 

“ Rule  Britannia.” 

Among  other  occasional  trifles  of  this  kind,  to  which  Sheridan  condescended  for  tine 
advantage  of  the  theatre,  was  the  pantomime  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  brought  out,  I believe, 
in  1781,  of  which  he  is  understood  to  have  been  the  author.  There  was  a practical  joke  in 
this  pantomime,  (where,  in  pulling  off  a man's  boot,  the  leg  was  pulled  off  with  it,)  which 
the  famous  Delpini  laid  claim  to  as  his  own,  and  publicly  complained  of  Sheridan’s  having 
stolen  it  from  him.  The  punsters  of  the  day  said  it  was  claimed  as  literary  property — 
being  “in  usum  Delpini.^’ 

Another  of  these  inglorious  tasks  of  the  author  of  The  School  for  Scandal,  was  the  fur- 
nishing of  the  first  outline  or  Programme  of  “ The  Forty  Thieves.”  His  brother-in-law. 
Ward,  supplied  the  dialogue,  and  Mr.  Colman  was  employed  to  season  it  with  an  infu- 
sion of  jokes.  The  following  is  Sheridan’s  sketch  of  one  of  the  scenes  : — 

“ Ali  Baba. 

“ Bannister  called  out  of  the  cavern  boldly  by  his  son — comes  out  and  falls  on  the 
ground  a long  time,  not  knowing  him — says  he  would  only  have  taken  a little  gold  to 
keep  off  misery  and  save  his  son,  &c. 

“ Afterwards,  when  he  loads  his  asses,  his  son  reminds  him  to  be  moderate — but  it  was 
a promise  made  to  thieves — ‘ it  gets  nearer  the  owner,  if  taken  from  the  stealer’ — the 
son  disputes  this  morality — ‘ they  stole  it,  ergo^  they  have  no  right  to  it  ; and  we  steal  it 
from  the  stealer,  ergo^  our  title  is  twice  as  bad  as  theirs.’  ” 

* For  the  expedition  to  the  coast  of  France,  after  the  Convention  of  Closter-secen. 
When  he  ordered  the  fleet  to  be  equipped,  and  appointed  the  time  and  place  of  its  ren- 
dezvous, Lord  Anson  said  it  would  be  impossible  to  have  it  prepared  so  soon.  “ It  may,” 
said  Mr.  Pitt,  “ be  done  ; and  if  the  ships  are  not  ready  at  the  time  specified,  I shall  sig- 
nify Your  Lordship’s  neglect  to  the  King,  and  impeach  you  in  the  House  of  Commons.” 
This  intimation  produced  the  desired  effect  : the  ships  were  ready.  See  Ajiecdofes  of 
Ixird  Chatham,  vpl.  i. 


mam  noi^,  ricitard  brinsley  sheridan.  189 


In  the  spring  of  the  following  year,  (1795,)  we  find  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan paying  that  sort  of  tribute  to  the  happiness  of  a first  mar- 
riage w'hich  is  implied  by  the  step  of  entering  into  a second. 
The  lady  to  whom  he  now  united  himself  was  Miss  Esther  Jane 
Ogle,  daughter  of  the  Dean  of  Winchester,  and  grand-daughter, 
l)y  the  mother’s  side,  of  the  former  Bishop  of  Winchester.  We 
have  here  another  proof  of  the  ready  mine  of  wealth  which  the 
theatre  opened, — as  in  gratitude  it  ought, — to  him  who  had  en- 
dowed it  with  such  imperishable  treasures.  The  fortune  of  the 
lady  being  five  thousand  pounds,  he  added  to  it  fifteen  thousand 
more,  which  he  contrived  to  raise  by  the  sale  of  Drury-Lane 
shares ; and  the  whole  of  the  sum  was  subsequently  laid  out  in 
the  purchase  from  Sir  W.  Geary  of  the  estate  of  Polesden,  in 
Surrey,  near  Leatherhead.  The  Trustees  of  this  settlement  w^ere 
Mr.  Grey,  (now  Lord  Grey,)  and  Mr.  Whitbread. 

To  a man  at  the  time  of  life  which  Sheridan  had  now  at- 
tained— four  years  beyond  that  period,  at  which  Petrarch  thought 
it  decorous  to  leave  off  writing  love-verses* — a union  with  a 
young  and  accomplished  girl,  ardently  devoted  to  him,  must 
have  been  like  a renewal  of  his  own  youth ; and  it  is,  indeed, 
said  by  those  who  were  in  habits  of  intimacy  with  him  at  this 
period,  that  they  had  seldom  seen  his  spirits  in  a state  of  more 
buoyant  vivacity.  He  passed  much  of  his  time  at  the  house  of 
his  father-in-law  near  Southampton ; — and  in  sailing  about  with 
his  lively  bride  on  the  Southampton  river,  (in  a small  cutter 
called  the  Phsedria,  after  the  magic  boat  in  the  “ Fairy  Queen,”) 
forgot  for  a while  his  debts,  his  theatre,  and  his  politics.  It  was 
on  one  of  these  occasions  that  my  friend  Mr.  Bowles,  who  was 
a frequent  companion  of  his  parties,f  wrote  the  following  verses, 
which  were  much  admired,  as  they  well  deserved  te  be,  by  Sheri- 

* See  his  Epistle,  “ ad  Posteritatem,”  where,  after  lamenting  the  many  years  which 
he  had  devoted  to  love,  he  adds  : “ IWox  vero  ad  qaadragesimum  annum  appropinquans, 
dum  adhuc  et  c doris  satis  esset,”  &c. 

f Among  other  distinguished  persons  present  at  these  excursions  were  Mr.  Joseph 
Richardson,  Dr.  Howley,  now  Bishop  of  London,  and  Mis.  Wiimot,  now  Lady  Dacre,  a 
lady,  whose  various  talents, — not  the  less  delightful  fji  being  so  feminine, — like  the 
groupe  of  the  Graces,  reflect  beauty  on  each  other. 


90 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


dan,  for  the  sweetness  of  their  thoughts,  and  the  perfect  mueio 
of  their  rhythm  • — ^ 

“ Smooth  went  our  boat  upon  the  summer  seas, 

Leaving,  (for  so  it  seem’d,)  the  world  behind, 

Its  cares,  its  sounds,  its  shadows : we  reclin’d 
Upon  the  sunny  deck,  heard  but  the  breeze 
That  o’er  us  whispering  pass’d  or  idly  play’d 
With  the  lithe  flag  aloft. — A woodland  scene 
On  either  side  drew  its  slope  line  of  green. 

And  hung  the  water’s  shining  edge  with  shade. 

Above  the  woods,  Netley  ! thy  ruins  pale 
Peer’d,  as  we  pass’d  ; and  Vecta’s*  azure  hue 
Beyond  the  misty  castlef  met  the  view  ; 

Where  in  mid  channel  hung  the  scarce-seen  sail 
So  all  was  calm  and  sunshine  as  we  went 
Cheerily  o’er  the  briny  element. 

Oh ! were  this  little  boat  to  us  the  world. 

As  thus  we  wander’d  far  from  sounds  of  care. 

Circled  with  friends  and  gentle  maidens  fair. 

Whilst  morning  airs  the  waving  pendant  curl’d. 

How  sweet  were  life’s  long  voyage,  till  in  peace 
We  gain’d  that  haven  still,  where  all  things  cease  !” 

The  events  of  this  year  but  added  fresh  impetus  to  that  reac- 
tion upon  each  other  of  the  Government  and  the  People,  which 
such  a system  of  misrule  is  always  sure  to  produce.  Among 
the  worst  effects,  as  I have  already  remarked,  of  the  rigorous 
policy  adopted  by  the  Minister,  was  the  extremity  to  which  it 
drove  the  principles  and  language  of  Opposition,  and  that  sanc- 
tion which  the  vehement  rebound  against  oppression  of  such  in- 
fluencing spirits  as  Fox  and  Sheridan  seemed  to  hold  out  to  the 
obscurer  and  more  practical  assertors  of  freedom.  This  was  at 
no  time  more  remarkable  than  in  the  present  Session,  during 
the  discussion  of  those  arbitrary  measures,  the  Treason  and  Se- 
dition Bills,  when  sparks  were  struck  out,  in  the  collision  of  the 
two  principles,  which  the  combustible  state  of  public  feeling  at 
the  moment  rendered  not  a little  perilous.  On  the  motion  thai 


♦ Isle  of  Wight. 


f Kclshot  Castle. 


nmni?  HOK.  RICHAllD  BElKSLET  SH^lIlIDAN.  191 


the  House  should  resolve  itself  into  a Committee  upon  the  Trea- 
son Bill,  Mr.  Fox  said,  that  “ if  Ministers  were  determined,  by 
means  of  the  corrupt  influence  they  already  possessed  in  the 
two  Houses  of  Parliament,  to  pass  these  Bills,  in  violent  oppo- 
sition to  the  declared  sense  of  the  great  majority  of  the  nation, 
and  they  should  be  put  in  force  with  all  their  rigorous  provi- 
sions,— if  his  opinion  were  asked  by  the  people  as  to  their  obe- 
dience, he  should  tell  them,  that  it  was  no  longer  a question  of 
moral  obligation  and  duty,  but  of  prudence.”  Mr.  Sheridan 
followed  in  the  bold  footsteps  of  his  friend,  and  said,  that  “ if  a 
degraded  and  oppressed  majority  of  the  people  applied  to  him, 
he  would  advise  them  to  acquiesce  in  those  bills  only  as  long  as 
resistance  was  imprudent.”  This  language  was,  of  course,  visited 
with  the  heavy  reprobation  of  the  Ministry  but  their  own 
partisans  had  already  gone  as  great  lengths  on  the  side  of  abso- 
lute power,  and  it  is  the  nature  of  such  extremes  to  generate  each 
other.  Bishop  Horsley  had  preached  the  doctrine  of  passive 
obedience  in  the  House  of  Lords,  asserting  that  “ man’s  abuse 
of  his  delegated  authority  is  to  be  borne  with  resignation,  like 
any  other  of  God’s  judgments ; and  that  the  opposition  of  the 
individual  to  the  sovereign  power  is  an  opposition  to  God’s  pro- 
vidential arrangements.”  The  promotion  of  the  Eight  Eeverend 
Prelate  that  followed,  was  not  likely  to  abate  his  zeal  in  the 
cause  of  power ; and,  accordingly,  we  find  him  in  the  present 
session  declaring,  in  his  place  in  the  House  of  Lords,  that  “ the 
people  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  laws  but  to  obey  them.” 

The  government,  too,  had  lately  given  countenance  to  writers, 
the  absurd  slavishness  of  whose  doctrines  would  have  sunk  be- 
low contempt,  but  for  such  patronage.  Among  the  ablest  of 
them  was  Arthur  Young, — one  of  those  renegades  from  the 
cause  of  freedom,  who,  like  the  incendiary  that  set  fire  to  the 
Temple  with  the  flame  he  had  stolen  from  its  altar,  turn  the 
fame  and  the  energies  which  they  have  acquired  in  defence 
of  liberty  against  her.  This  gentleman,  to  whom  his  situation  as 
Secretary  to  the  Board  of  Agriculture  afforded  facilities  for  the 
circulation  of  his  political  heresies,  did  not  scruple,  in  one  of  his 


192 


MEMOIRS  OR  LIFE  OF  TfiE 


pamphlets,  roundly  to  assert,  that  unequal  representation,  rotteri 
boroughs,  long  parliaments,  extravagant  courts,  selfish  Ministers, 
and  corrupt  majorities,  are  not  only  intimately  interwoven  with 
the  practical  freedom  of  England,  but,  in  a great  degree,  the 
causes  of  it. 

But  the  most  active  and  notorious  of  these  patronized  advo- 
cates of  the  Court  was  Mr.  John  Reeves, — a person  who,  in  his 
capacity  of  President  of  the  Association  against  Republicans  and 
r^evellers,  had  acted  as  a sort  of  Sub-minister  of  Alarm  to  Mr. 
Burke.  In  a pamphlet,  entitled  “ Thoughts  on  the  English  Go- 
vernment,” which  Mr.  Sheridan  brought  under  the  notice  of  the 
House,  as  a libel  on  the  Constitution,  this  pupil  of  the  school  of 
Filmer  advanced  the  startling  doctrine  that  the  Lords  and  Com- 
mons of  England  derive  their  existence  and  authority  from  the 
King,  and  that  the  Kingly  government  could  go  on,  in  all  its 
functions,  without  them.  This  pitiful  paradox  found  an  apologist 
in  Mr.  Windham,  whose  chivalry  in  the  new  cause  he  had  es- 
poused left  Mr.  Pitt  himself  at  a wondering  distance  behind.  His 
speeches  in  defence  of  Reeves,  (which  are  among  the  proofs  that 
remain  of  that  want  of  equipoise  observable  in  his  fine,  rather 
than  solid,  understanding,)  have  been  with  a judicious  charity 
towards  his  memory,  omitted  in  the  authentic  collection  by  Mr. 
Amyot. 

When  such  libels  against  the  Constitution  were  not  only  pro- 
mulgated, but  acted  upon,  on  one  side,  it  was  to  be  expected,  and 
hardly,  perhaps,  to  be  regretted,  that  the  repercussion  should  be 
heard  loudly  and  warningly  from  the  other.  Mr.  Fox,  by  a sub- 
sequent explanation,  softened  down  all  that  was  most  menacing 
ill  his  language ; and,  though  the  word  “ Resistance,”  at  full 
length,  should,  like  the  hand-writing  on  the  wall,  be  reserved  for 
I he  last  intoxication  of  the  Belshazzars  of  this  world,  a letter  or 
two  of  it  may,  now  and  then,  glare  out  upon  their  eyes,  with- 
out producing  any  thing  worse  than  a salutary  alarm  amid  their 
revels.  At  all  events,  the  high  and  constitutional  grounds  on 
which  Mr.  Fox  defended  the  expressions  he  had  hazarded,  may 
well  reconcile  us  to  any  risk  incurred  b}^  their  utterance.  The 


illGHT  HON-.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  l9^ 


tribute  to  the  house  of  Russell,  in  the  grand  and  simple  passage 
beginning,  “ Dear  to  this  country  are  the  descendants  of  the 
illustrious  Russell,”  is  as  applicable  to  that  Noble  family  now  as 
it  was  then ; and  will  continue  to  be  so,  I trust,  as  long  as  a 
single  vestige  of  a race,  so  pledged  to  the  cause  of  liberty,  re- 
mains. 

In  one  of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  speeches  on  the  subject  of  Reeves’s 
libel,  there  are  some  remarks  on  the  character  of  the  people  of 
England,  not  only  candid  and  just,  but,  as  applied  to  them  at  that 
trying  crisis,  interesting : — 

“ Never  was  there, he  said,  “ any  country  in  which  there  was  so  much 
absence  of  public  principle,  and  at  the  same  time  so  many  instances  of  pri- 
vate worth.  Never  was  there  so  much  charity  and  humanity  towards  the 
poor  and  the  distressed  ; any  act  of  cruelty  or  oppression  never  failed  to 
excite  a sentiment  of  general  indignation  against  its  authors.  It  was  a cir- 
cumstance peculiarly  strange,  that  though  luxury  had  arrived  to  such  a 
pitch,  it  had  so  little  effect  in  depraving  the  hearts  and  destroying  the  mo- 
rals of  people  in  private  life  ; and  almost  every  day  produced  some  fresh 
example  of  generous  feelings  and  noble  exertions- of  benevolence.  Yet 
amidst  these  phenomena  of  private  virtue,  it  was  to  be  remarked,  that  there 
was  an  almost  total  want  of  public  spirit,  and  a most  deplorable  contempt 
of  public  principle.  ******* 
When  Great  Britain  fell,  the  case  would  not  be  with  her  as  with  Rome  in 
former  times.  When  Rome  fell,  she  fell  by  the  weight  of  her  own  vices. 
The  inhabitants  were  so  corrupted  and  degraded,  as  to  be  unworthy  of  a 
continuance  of  prosperity,  and  incapable  to  enjoy  the  blessings  of  liberty  ; 
their  minds  were  bent  to  the  state  in  which  a reverse  of  fortune  placed 
them.  But  when  Great  Britain  falls,  she  will  fall  with  a people  full  of  pri- 
vate worth  and  virtue  ; she  will  be  ruined  by  the  profligacy  of  the  gover- 
nors, and  the  security  of  her  inhabitants, — the  consequence  of  those  per- 
nicious doctrines  which  have  taught  her  to  place  a false  confidence  in  her 
strength  and  freedom,  and  not  to  look  with  distrust  and  apprehension  to 
the  misconduct  and  corruption  of  those  to  whom  she  has  trusted  the  ma- 
nagement of  her  resources.” 

To  this  might  have  been  added,  that  when  Great  Britain  falls, 
it  will  not  be  from  either  ignorance  of  her  rights,  or  insensibility 
to  their  value,  but  from  that  want  of  energy  to  assert  them  which 
a high  state  of  civilization  produces.  The  love  of  ease  that  lux- 

VOL.  II.  9 


194 


MEMoiil^  OP  THE  LIFE  OF  TH^3 


ury  brings  along  with  it, — the  selfish  and  compromising  spirit, 
in  which  the  members  of  a polished  society  countenance  each 
other,  and  which  reverses  the  principle  of  patriotism,  by  sacri- 
ficing public  interests  to  private  ones, — the  substitution  of  Intel 
lectual  for  moral  excitement,  and  the  repression  of  enthusiasm 
by  fastidiousness  and  ridicule, — these  are  among  the  causes  that 
undermine  a people, — that  corrupt  in  the  very  act  of  enlighten- 
ing them ; till  they  become,  what  a French  writer  calls  ‘‘  esprits 
exigeanz  et  varacteres  complaisans^^  and  the  period  in  which  theii 
rights  are  best  understood  may  be  that  in  which  they  most  easily 
surrender  them!  It  is,  indeed,  with  the  advanced  age  of  free 
States,  as  with  that  of  individuals, — they  improve  in  the  theory 
of  their  existence  as  they  grow  unfit  for  the  practice  of  it ; till, 
at  last,  deceiving  themselves  with  the  semblance  of  rights  gone 
by,  and  refining  upon  the  forms  of  their  institutions  after  they 
have  lost  the  substance,  they  smoothly  sink  into  slavery,  with  the 
lessons  of  liberty  on  their  lips. 

Besides  the  Treason  and  Sedition  Bills,  the  Suspension  of  the 
Habeas  Corpus  Act  was  another  of  the  momentous  questions 
which,  in  this  as  well  as  the  preceding  Session,  were  chosen  as 
points  of  assault  by  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  contested  with  a vigor 
and  reiteration  of  attack,  which,  though  unavailing  against  the 
massy  majorities  of  the  Minister,  yet  told  upon  public  opinion 
so  as  to  turn  even  defeats  to  account. 

The  marriage  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  to  the  Princess  Caroline 
of  Brunswick  having  taken  place  in  the  spring  of  this  year,  it  was 
proposed  by  His  Majesty  to  Parliament,  not  only  to  provide  an 
establishment  for  their  Royal  Highnesses,  but  to  decide  on  the 
best  manner  of  liquidating  the  debts  of  the  Prince,  which  were 
calculated  at  630,000/.  On  the  secession  of  the  leading  Whigs,  in 
1792,  His  Royal  Highness  had  also  separated  himself  from  Mr. 
Fox,  and  held  no  further  intercourse  either  with  him  or  any  of 
his  party, — except,  occasionally,  Mr.  Sheridan, — till  so  late,  I be- 
lieve, as  the  year  1798.  The  effects  of  this  estrangement  are 
sufficiently  observable  in  the  tone  of  the  Opposition  throughout 
the  debates  on  the  Message  of  the  King.  Mr.  Grey  said,  that  he 


mam  lioisf.  iiicSarD  Srinsley  sheridan.  196 


would  not  oppose  the  granting  of  an  establishment  to  the  Prince 
equal  to  that  of  his  ancestors  ; but  neither  would  he  consent  to 
the  payment  of  his  debts  by  Parliament.  A refusal,  he  added, 
to  liberate  His  Royal  Highness  from  his  embarrassments  would 
certainly  prove  a mortification  ; but  it  would,  at  the  same  time, 
awaken  a just  sense  of  his  imprudence.  Mr.  Fox  asked,  “ Was 
the  Prince  well  advised  in  applying  to  that  House  on  the  subject 
of  his  debts,  after  the  promise  made  in  1787]” — and  Mr.  She- 
ridan, while  he  agreed  with  his  friends  that  the  application  should 
not  have  been  made  to  Parliament,  still  gave  it  as  his  “ positive 
opinion  that  the  debts  ought  to  be  paid  immediately,  for  the  dig- 
nity of  the  country  and  the  situation  of  the  Prince,  who  ought 
not  to  be  seen  rolling  about  the  streets,  in  his  state-coach,  as  an 
insolvent  prodigal.”  With  respect  to  the  promise  given  in  1787, 
and  now  violated,  that  the  Prince  would  not  again  apply  to  Par- 
liament for  the  payment  of  his  debts,  Mr.  Sheridan,  with  a com- 
municativeness that  seemed  hardly  prudent,  put  the  House  in 
possession  of  some  details  of  the  transaction,  which,  as  giving  an 
insight  into  Royal  character,  are  worthy  of  being  extracted. 

“ In  1787,  a pledge  was  given  to  the  House  that  no  more  debts  should  be 
contracted.  By  that  pledge  the  Prince  was  bound  as  much  as  if  he  had 
given  it  knowingly  and  voluntarily.  To  attempt  any  explanation  of  it 
now  would  be  unworthy  of  his  honor, — as  if  he  had  suffered  it  to  be  wrung 
from  him,  with  a view  of  afterwards  pleading  that  it  was  against  his  better 
judgment,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  it.  He  then  advised  the  Prince  not  to  make 
any  such  promise,  because  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  he  could  himselt 
enforce  the  details  of  a system  of  economy  ; and,  although  he  had  men  of 
honor  and  abilities  about  him,  he  was  totally  unprovided  with  men  of  bu- 
siness, adequate  to  such  a task.  The  Prince  said  he  could  not  give  such  a 
pledge,  and  agree  at  the  same  time  to  take  back  his  establishment.  He 
(Mr.  Sheridan)  drew  up  a plan  of  retrenchment,  which  was  approved  of 
by  the  Prince,  and  afterwards  by  His  Majesty  ; and  the  Prince  told  him  that 
the  promise  was  not  to  be  insisted  upon.  In  the  King’s  Message,  however, 
the  promise  was  inserted, — by  whose  advice  he  knew  not.  He  heard  it  read 
with  surprise,  and,  on  being  asked  next  day  by  the  Prince  to  contradict  it 
in  his  place,  he  inquired  whether  the  Prince  had  seen  the  Message  before 
it  was  brought  down.  Being  told  that  it  had  been  read  to  him,  but  that  he 
did  not  understand  it  as  containing  a premise,  he  declined  contradicting  it, 


196 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


and  told  the  Prince  that  he  must  abide  by  it,  in  whatever  way  it  might  have 
been  obtained.  By  the  plan  then  settled,  Ministers  had  a check  upon  the 
Prince’s  expenditure,  which  they  never  exerted,  nor  enforced  adherence  tc 
the  plan.  *********  *** 

While  Ministers  never  interfered  to  check  expenses,  of  which  they  could 
not  pretend  ignorance,  the  Prince  had  recourse  to  means  for  relieving  him- 
self from  his  embarrassments,  which  ultimately  tended  to  increase  them. 
It  was  attempted  to  raise  a loan  for  him  in  foreign  countries,  a measure 
which  he  thought  unconstitutional,  and  put  a stop  to  ; and,  after  a con- 
sultation with  Lord  Loughborough,  all  the  bonds  were  burnt,  although 
with  a considerable  loss  to  the  Prince.  After  that,  another  plan  of  re- 
trenchment was  proposed,  upon  which  he  had  frequent  consultations  with 
Lord  Thurlow,  who  gave  the  Prince  fair,  open,  and  manly  advice.  That  No- 
ble Lord  told  the  Prince,  that,  after  the  promise  he  had  made,  he  must  not 
think  of  applying  to  Parliament ; — that  he  must  avoid  being  of  any  party 
in  politics,  but,  above  all,  exposing  himself  to  the  suspicion  of  being  influ- 
enced in  political  opinion  by  his  embarrassments  ; — that  the  only  course  he 
could  pursue  with  honor,  was  to  retire  from  public  life  for  a time,  and  ap- 
propriate the  greater  part  of  his  income  to  the  liquidation  of  his  debts. 
This  plan  was  agreed  upon  in  the  autum  of  1792.  Why,  it  might  be  asked, 
was  it  not  carried  into  effect  ? About  that  period  his  Royal  Highness  be- 
gan to  receive  unsolicited  advice  from  another  quarter.  He  was  told  by 
Lord  Loughborough,  both  in  words  and  in  writing,  that  the  plan  savored 
too  much  of  the  advice  given  to  M.  Egalite,  and  he  could  guess  from  what 
quarter  it  came.  For  his  own  part,  he  was  then  of  opinion,  that  to  have 
avoided  meddling  in  the  great  political  questions  which  were  then  coming 
to  be  discussed,  and  to  have  put  his  affairs  in  a train  of  adjustment,  would 
have  better  become  his  high  station,  and  tended  more  to  secure  public  re- 
spect to  it,  than  the  pageantry  of  state-liveries.” 

The  few  occasions  on  which  the  name  of  Mr.  Sheridan  was 
airain  connected  with  literature,  after  the  final  investment  of  his 
genius  in  political  speculations,  were  such  as  his  fame  might  have 
easily  dispensed  with ; — and  one  of  them,  the  forgery  of  the 
Shakspeare  papers,  occurred  in  the  course  of  the  present  year. 
Whether  it  was  that  he  looked  over  these  manuscripts  with  the 
eye  more  of  a manager  than  of  a critic,  and  considered  rather  to 
what  account  the  belief  in  their  authenticity  might  be  turned, 
than  how  far  it  was  founded  upon  internal  evidence ; — or  whether, 
as  Mr.  Ireland  asserts,  the  standard  at  which  he  rated  the  genius 
of  Shakspeare  was  not  so  high  as  to  inspire  him  with  a very 


HIGHT  HON.  EICHAKD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  197 


watchful  fastidiousness  of  judgment ; certain  it  is  that  he  was,  in 
some  degree,  the  dupe  of  this  remarkable  imposture,  which,  as  a 
lesson  to  the  self-confidence  of  criticism,  and  an  exposure  of  the 
fallibility  of  taste,  ought  never  to  be  forgotten  in  literary  history. 

The  immediate  payment  of  300^.  and  a moiety  of  the  profits 
for  the  first  sixty  nights,  were  the  terms  upon  which  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan purchased  the  play  of  Vortigern  from  the  Irelands.  The 
latter  part  of  the  conditions  was  voided  the  first  night ; and, 
though  it  is  more  than  probable  that  a genuine  tragedy  of  Shak- 
speare,  if  presented  under  similar  circumstances,  would  have 
shared  the  same  fate,  the  public  enjoyed  the  credit  of  detecting 
and  condemning  a counterfeit,  which  had  passed  current  through 
some  of  the  most  learned  and  tasteful  hands  of  the  day.  It  is 
but  justice,  however,  to  Mr.  Sheridan  to  add,  that,  according  to 
the  account  of  Ireland  himself,  he  was  . not  altogether  without 
misgivings  during  his  perusal  of  the  manuscripts,  and  that  his 
name  does  not  appear  among  the  signatures  to  that  attestation  of 
their  authenticity  which  his  friend  Dr.  Parr  drew  up,  and  was 
himself  the  first  to  sign.  The  curious  statement  of  Mr.  Ireland, 
with  respect  to  Sheridan’s  want  of  enthusiasm  for  Shakspeare, 
receives  some  confirmation  from  the  testimony  of  Mr.  Boaden, 
the  biographer  of  Kemble,  who  tells  us  that  “ Kemble  frequently 
expressed  to  him  his  wonder  that  Sheridan  should  trouble  him^ 
self  so  little  about  Shakspeare.”  This  peculiarity  of  taste, — if  it 
really  existed  to  the  degree  that  these  two  authorities  would  lead 
us  to  infer, — afibrds  a remarkable  coincidence  with  the  opinions 
of  another  illustrious  genius,  lately  lost  to  the  world,  whose  ad- 
miration of  the  great  Demiurge  of  the  Drama  was  leavened  with 
the  same  sort  of  heresy. 

In  the  January  of  this  year,  Mr.  William  Stone — the  brother 
of  the  gentleman  whose  letter  from  Paris  has  been  given  in  a 
preceding  Chapter — was  tried  upon  a charge  of  High  Treason, 
and  Mr.  Sheridan  was  among  the  witnesses  summoned  for  the 
prosecution.  He  had  already  in  the  year  1794,  in  consequence 
of  a reference  from  Mr.  Stone  himself,  been  examined  before  the 
Privy  Council,  relative  to  a conversation  which  he  had  held  with 


198 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


{-.hat  gentleman,  and,  on  the  day  after  his  examination,  had,  at 
the  request  of  Mr.  Dundas,  transmitted  to  that  Minister  in  writ- 
ing the  particulars  of  his  testimony  before  the  Council.  There 
is  among  his  papers  a rough  draft  of  this  Statement,  in  compar- 
ing which  with  his  evidence  upon  the  trial  in  the  present  year,  I 
find  rather  a curious  proof  of  the  faithlessness  of  even  the  best 
memories.  The  object  of  the  conversation  which  he  had  held 
with  Mr.  Stone  in  1794 — and  which  constituted  the  whole  of 
their  intercourse  with  each  other — was  a proposal  on  the  part  of 
the  latter,  submitted  also  to  Lord  Lauderdale  and  others,  to  ex- 
ert his  influence  in  France,  through  those  channels  which  his 
brother’s  residence  there  opened  to  him,  for  the  purpose  of  avert- 
ing the  threatened  invasion  of  England,  by  representing  to  the 
French  rulers  the  utter  hopelessness  of  such  an  attempt.  Mr. 
Sheridan,  on  the  trial,  after  an  ineflectual  request  to  be  allowed 
to  refer  to  his  written  Statement,  gave  tne  following  as  part  of 
Kis  recollections  of  the  conversation  : — 

Mr.  Stone  stated  that,  in  order  to  effect  this  purpose,  he  had  endea- 
vored to  collect  the  opinions  of  several  gentlemen,  political  characters  in 
this  country,  whose  opinions  he  thought  would  be  of  authority  sufficient 
to  advance  his  object ; that  for  this  purpose  he  had  had  interviews  with 
different  gentlemen ; he  named  Mr.  Smith  and,  I think,  one  or  two  more, 
whose  names  I do  not  now  recollect.  He  named  some  gentlemen  connect- 
ed with  Administration — if  the  Counsel  will  remind  me  of  the  name ” 

Here  Mr.  Law,  the  examining  Counsel,  remarked,  that  ‘‘  upon 
the  cross-examination,  if  the  gentlemen  knew  the  circumstance, 
they  would  mention  it.”  The  cross-examination  of  Sheridan  by 
Sergeant  Adair  was  as  follows : — 

You  stated  in  the  course  of  your  examination  that  Mr.  Stone  said  there 
was  a gentleman  connected  with  Government,  to  whom  he  had  made  a 
similar  communication,  should  you  recollect  the  name  of  that  person  if  you 
were  reminded  of  it^ — I certainly  should. — Was  it  General  Murray? — Ge- 
neral Murray  certainly.’’ 

Notwithstanding  this,  however,  it  appears  from  the  written 
Statement  in  my  possession,  d^'^^wn  up  soon  after  the  conversa 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRIKSLEY  SHERIDAN.  199 


tion  in  question,  that  this  “gentleman  connected  with  Govern- 
ment,” so  difficult  to  be  remembered,  was  no  other  than  the 
Prime  Minister,  Mr.  Fitt  himself.  So  little  is  the  memory  to 
b3  relied  upon  in  evidence,  particularly  when  absolved  from  re- 
sponsibility by  the  commission  of  its  deposit  to  writing.  The 
conduct  of  Mr.  Sheridan  throughout  this  transaction  appears  to 
ha^e  been  sensible  and  cautious.  That  he  was  satisfied  with  it 
hiaself  may  be  collected  from  the  conclusion  of  his  letter  to 
Mr  Dundas  : — “ Under  the  circumstances  in  which  the  applica- 
tioi;  (from  Mr.  Dundas,)  has  been  made  to  me,  I have  thought 
it  e<[ually  a matter  of  respect  to  that  application  and  of  respect 
to  iiyself,  as  well  as  of  justice  to  the  person  under  suspicion,  to 
give  this  relation  more  in  detail  than  at  first  perhaps  might  ap- 
pear necessary.  My  own  conduct  in  the  matter  not  being  in 
quesfon,  I can  only  say  that  were  a similar  case  to  occur,  I think 
1 shoild  act  in  every  circumstance  precisely  in  the  manner  I did 
on  ths  occasion.” 

Tb  parliamentary  exertions  of  Mr.  Sheridan  this  year, 
thou^  various  and  active,  were  chiefly  upon  subordinate  ques- 
tions; and,  except  in  the  instance  of  Mr.  Fox’s  Motion  of  Cen- 
sure iipon  Ministers  for  advancing  money  to  the  Emperor  with- 
out he  consent  of  Parliament,  were  not  distinguished  by  any 
signa  or  sustained  displays  of  eloquence.  The  grand  questions, 
inded,  connected  with  the  liberty  of  the  subject,  had  been  so 
hotl}  contested,  that  but  few  new  grounds  were  left  on  which  to 
renev  the  conflict.  Events,  however, — the  only  teachers  of  the 
grea  mass  of  mankind, — were  beginning  to  effect  what  eloquence 
had  n vain  attempted.  The  people  of  England,  though  general- 
ly e«ger  for  war,  are  seldom  long  in  discovering  that  “ the  cup 
but  sparkles  near  the  brim  and  in  the  occurrences  of  the  fol- 
lowng  year  they  were  made  to  taste  the  full  bitterness  of  the 
draight.  An  alarm  for  the  solvency  of  the  Bank,  an  impend- 
ing mvasion,  a mutiny  in  the  fleet,  and  an  organized  rebellion  in 
Ireknd, — such  were  the  fruits  of  four  years’  warfare,  and  they 
wei3  enough  to  startle  even  the  most  sanguine  and  precipitate 
into  reflection. 


200 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


The  conduct  of  Mr.  Sheridan  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  Mu 
tiny  at  the  Nore  is  too  well  known  and  appreciated  to  require 
any  illustration  here.  It  is  placed  to  his  credit  on  the  page  of 
history,  and  was  one  of  the  happiest  impulses  of  good  feelirg 
and  good  sense  combined,  that  ever  public  man  acted  upon  in  a 
situation  demanding  so  much  of  both.  The  patriotic  prompti- 
tude of  his  interference  w^as  even  more  striking  than  it  appetrs 
in  the  record  of  his  parliamentary  labors ; for,  as  I have  hetrd 
at  but  one  remove  from  his  own  authority,  while  the  Ministry 
were  yet  hesitating  as  to  the  steps  they  should  take,  he  went  to 
Mr.  Dundas  and  said, — “ My  advice  is  that  you  cut  the  bmys 
on  the  river — send  Sir  Charles  Grey  down  to  the  coast,  and  set 
a price  on  Parker’s  head.  If  the  Administration  take  this  ad- 
vice instantly,  they  will  save  the  country — if  not,  they  will  lose 
it ; and,  on  their  refusal,  I will  impeach  them  in  the  House  of 
Commons  this  very  evening.” 

Without  dwelling  on  the  contrast  which  is  so  often  dravn — 
less  with  a view  to  elevate  Sheridan  than  to  depreciate  his  >arty 
— between  the  conduct  of  himself  and  his  friends  at  this  farful 
crisis,  it  is  impossible  not  to  concede  that,  on  the  scale  of  pblic 
spirit,  he  rose  as  far  superior  to  them  as  the  great  claims  o'  the 
general  safety  transcend  all  personal  considerations  and  all  jarty 
ties.  It  was,  indeed,  a rare  triumph  of  temper  and  sagacity. 
With  less  temper,  he  would  have  seen  in  this  awful  peril  bit  an 
occasion  of  triumph  over  the  Minister  whom  he  had  so  long  ^een 
struggling  to  overturn — and,  with  less  sagacity,  he  would  iave 
thrown  aw'ay  the  golden  opportunity  of  establishing  himsell  for 
ever  in  the  affections  and  the  memories  of  Englishmen,  as  one 
whose  heart  was  in  the  common-weal,  whatever  might  be  his 
opinions,  and  who,  in  the  moment  of  peril,  could  sink  the  partsan 
in  the  patriot. 

As  soon  as  he  had  performed  this  exemplary  duty,  he  johed 
Mr.  Fox  and  the  rest  of  his  friends  who  had  seceded  from  Jar- 
liament  about  a week  before,  on  the  verv  day  after  the  rejecion 
of  Mr.  Grey's  motion  for  a refcu-rn.  This  step,  which  was  intlnd- 
ed  to  create  a strong  sensation,  hy  hoisting,  as  it  were,  the  sijnaJ 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  201 

of  despair  to  the  country,  was  followed  by  no  such  striking  ef- 
fects, and  left  little  behind  but  a question  as  to  its  prudence  and 
patriotism.  The  public  saw,  however,  with  pleasure,  that  there 
were  still  a few  champions  of  the^constitution,  who  did  not  leave 
her  fair  side  all  unguarded’*  in  this  extremity.  Mr.  Tierney, 
among  others,  remained  at  his  post,  encountering  Mr.  l^itt  on 
financial  questions  with  a vigor  and  address  to  which  the  latter 
had  been  hitherto  unaccustomed,  and  perfecting  by  practice  that 
shrewd  power  of  analysis,  which  has  made  him  so  formidable  a 
sifter  of  ministerial  sophistries  ever  since.  Sir  Francis  Burdett, 
too,  was  just  then  entering  into  his  noble  career  of  patriotism  ; 
and,  like  the  youthful  servant  of  the  temple  in  Euripides,  was 
aiming  his  first  shafts  at  those  unclean  birds,  that  settle  within 
the  sanctuary  of  the  Constitution  and  sully  its  treasures : — 

‘TTTjvwv  <r’ayaXa? 

•A 

avaS'yjjxaTa.” 

By  a letter  from  the  Earl  of  Moira  to  Col.  M’Mahon  in  the 
summer  of  this  year  it  appears,  that  in  consequence  of  the  calami- 
tous state  of  the  country,  a plan  had  been  in  agitation  among  some 
members  of  the  House  of  Commons,  who  had  hitherto  supported 
the  measures  of  the  Minister,  to  form  an  entirely  new  Adminis- 
tration, of  which  the  Noble  Earl  was  to  be  the  head,  and  from 
which  both  Mr.  Pitt  and  Mr.  Fox,  as  equally  obnoxious  to  the 
public,  were  to  be  excluded.  The  only  materials  that  appear  to 
have  been  forthcoming  for  this  new  Cabinet  were  Lord  Moira 
himself.  Lord  Thurlow,  and  Sir  William  Pulteney — the  last  of 
whom  it  was  intended  to  make  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 
Such  a tottering  balance  of  parties,  however,  could  not  have  been 
long  maintained  ; and  its  relapse,  after  a short  interval,  into  Tory- 
ism, would  but  have  added  to  the  triumph  of  Mr.  Pitt,  and  in- 
creased his  power.  Accordingly  Lord  Moira,. who  saw  from  the 
beginning  the  delicacy  and  difficulty  of  the  task,  wisely  abandoned 
it.  The  share  that  Mr.  Sheridan  had  in  this  transaction  is  too 

9* 


VOL.  II. 


202 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


honorable  to  him  not  to  be  recorded,  and  the  particulars  cannot 
be  better  given  than  in  Lord  Moira’s  own  words : — 

You  say  that  Mr.  Sheridan  has  been  traduced,  as  wishing  to  abandon 
Mr.  Fox,  and  to  promote  a new  Administration.  I had  accidentally  a con- 
versation with  that  gentleman  at  the  House  of  Lords.  I remonstrated 
strongly  with  him  against  a principle  which  I heard  Mr.  Fox's  friends  in- 
tended to  lay  down,  namely,  that  they  would  support  a new  Administration, 
but  that  not  any  of  them  would  take  part  in  it.  I solemnly  declare,  upon 
my  honor,  that  I could  not  shake  Mr.  Sheridan’s  conviction  of  the  pro- 
priety of  that  determination.  He  said  that  he  and  Mr.  Fox’s  other  friends, 
as  well  as  Mr.  Fox  himself,  would  give  the  most  energetic  support  to  such 
an  Administration  as  was  in  contemplation  ; but  that  their  acceptance  of  of- 
fice would  appear  an  acquiescence  under  the  injustice  of  the  interdict  sup- 
posed to  be  fixed  upon  Mr.  Fox.  I did  not  and  never  can  admit  the  fairness 
of  that  argument.  But  I gained  nothing  upon  Mr.  Sheridan,  to  whose  up- 
rightness in  that  respect  I can  therefore  bear  the  most  decisive  testimony. 
Indeed  I am  ashamed  of  offering  testimony,  where  suspicion  ought  not  to 
have  been  conceived.  ’ 


BIGHT  HON.  RICHABD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  203 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

PLAY  OF  ‘‘the  stranger.” — SPEECHES  IN  PARLIAMENT. 

— PIZARRO. — MINISTRY  OF  MR.  ADDINGTON. — FRENCH 

INSTITUTE. — NEGOTIATION  WITH  MR.  KEMBLE. 

The  theatrical  season  of  1798  introduced  to  the  public  the 
German  drama  of  “ The  Stranger,”  translated  by  Mr.  Thomp- 
son, and  (as  we  are  told  by  this  gentleman  in  his  preface) 
altered  and  improved  by  Sheridan.  There  is  reason,  however, 
to  believe  that  the  contributions  of  the  latter  to  the  dialogue  were 
nuch  more  considerable  than  he  was  perhaps  willing  to  let  the 
translator  acknowledge.  My  friend  Mr.  Rogers  has  heard  him, 
on  two  different  occasions,  declare  that  he  had  written  every 
word  of  the  Stranger  from  beginning  to  end  ; and,  as  his  vanity 
could  not  be  much  interested  in  such  a claim,  it  is  possible  that 
there  was  at  least  some  virtual  foundation  for  it. 

The  song  introduced  in  this  play,  “ I have  a silent  sorrow 
here,”  was  avowedly  written  by  Sheridan,  as  the  music  of  it  was 
by  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire — two  such  names,  so  brilliant  in 
their  respective  spheres,  as  the  Muses  of  Song  and  Verse  have 
seldom  had  the  luck  to  bring  together.  The  originality  of  these 
lines  has  been  disputed ; and  that  expedient  of  borrowing  which 
their  author  ought  to  have  been  independent  of  in  every  way,  is 
supposed  to  have  been  resorted  to  by  his  indolence  on  this  occa- 
sion. Some  verses  by  Tick  ell  are  mentioned  as  having  supplied 
one  of  the  best  stanzas ; but  1 am  inclined  to  think,  from  the 
following  circumstances,  that  this  theft  of  Sheridan  was  of  that 
venial  and  domestic  kind — from  himself.  A writer,  who  brings 
forward  the  accusation  in  the  Gentleman’s  Magazine,  (vol.  Ixxi. 
p.  904,)  thus  states  his  grounds : — 

“ In  a son^  which  I purchased  at  Bland’s  music-shop  in  Holborn  in  the 


204 


MEMGIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


year  1794,  intitled,  ‘ Think  not,  my  love,’  and  professing  to  be  set  to  music 
by  Thomas  Wright,  (I  conjecture,  Organist  of  Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  and 
composer  of  the  pretty  Opera  called  Rusticity,)  are  the  following  words 

The  song  to  which  the  writer  alludes,  “ Think  not,  my  love,’^ 
was  given  to  me,  as  a genuine  production  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  by 
a gentleman  nearly  connected  with  his  family  ; and  I have  little 
doubt  of  its  being  one  of  those  early  love-strains  which,  in  his 
tempo  de^  dolci  sospiri^  he  addressed  to  Miss  Linley.  As,  there- 
fore, it  was  but  “ a feather  of  his  own”  that  the  eagle  made  free 
with,  he  may  be  forgiven.  The  following  is  the  whole  of  the 
song : — 

^ This  treasured  grief,  this  loved  despair, 

My  lot  forever  be  ; 

But,  dearest,  may  the  pangs  I bear 
Be  never  known  to  thee !’ 

I‘Now,  without  insisting  that  the  opening  thought  in  Mr.  Sheridan’s 
famous  song  has  been  borrowed  from  that  of  ‘ Think  not,  my  love,’  the 
second  verse  is  manifestly  such  a theft  of  the  lines  I have  quoted  as  entirely 
overturns  Mr.  Sheridan’s  claim  to  originality  in  the  matter,  unless  ‘ Think 
not,  my  love,’  has  been  written  by  him,  and  he  can  be  proved  to  have  only 
stolen  from  himself.” 

Think  not,  my  love,  w^hen  secret  grief 
Preys  on  my  saddened  heart. 

Think  not  I wish  a mean  relief. 

Or  would  from  sorrow  part. 

“ Dearly  I prize  the  sighs  sincere, 

That  my  true  fondness  prove, 

Nor  would  I wish  to  check  the  tear. 

That  flows  from  hapless  love ! 

Alas  ! tho’  doom'd  to  hope  in  vain 
The  joys  that  love  requite. 

Yet  will  I cherish  all  its  pain, 

With  sad,  but  dear  delight. 

This  treasur’d  grief,  this  lov’d  despair 
My  lot  for  ever  Ik*  ; 

But,  dearest,  may  the  pangs  I bear 
Be  never  known  to  thee !” 


RIGHT  iiON.  Richard  brInsley  sheridah.  206 


Among  the  political  events  of  this  year,  the  rebellion  of  Ire- 
land holds  a memorable  and  fearful  pre-eminence.  The  only 
redeeming  stipulation  which  the  Duke  of  Portland  and  his  broth- 
er Alarmists  had  annexed  to  their  ill-judged*  Coalition  with  Mr. 
Pitt  was,  that  a system  of  conciliation  and  justice  should,  at  last, 
be  adopted  towards  Ireland.  Had  they  but  carried  thus  much 
wisdom  into  the  ministerial  ranks  with  them,  their  defection  might 
have  been  pardoned  for  the  good  it  achieved,  and,  in  one  respect 
at  least,  would  have  resembled  the  policy  of  those  Missionaries, 
who  join  in  the  ceremonies  of  the  Heathen  for  the  purpose  of 
winning  him  over  to  the  truth.  On  the  contrary,  however,  the 
usual  consequence  of  such  coalitions  with  Power  ensued, — the 
good  was  absorbed  in  the  evil  principle,  and,  by  the  false  hope 
which  it  created,  but  increased  the  mischief.  Lord  Fitzwilliam 
was  not  only  deceived  himself,  but,  still  worse  to  a noble  and 
benevolent  nature  like  his,  was  made  the  instrument  of  deception 
and  mockery  to  millions.  His  recall,  in  1795,  assisted  by  the 
measures  of  his  successor,  drove  Ireland  into  the  rebellion  which 
raged  during  the  present  year,  and  of  which  the  causes  have  been 
so  little  removed  from  that  liour  to  this,  that  if  the  people  have 
become  too  wise  to  look  back  to  it,  as  an  example,  it  is  assuredly 
not  because  their  rulers  have  much  profited  by  it  as  a lesson. 

I am  aware  that,  on  the  subject  of  Ireland  and  her  wrongs,  I 
can  ill  trust  myself  with  the  task  of  expressing  what  I feel,  or 
preserve  that  moderate,  historical  tone,  which  it  has  been  my 
wish  to  maintain  through  the  political  opinions  of  this  work.  On 
every  other  point,  my  homage  to  the  high  character  of  England, 
and  of  her  institutions,  is  prompt  and  cordial ; — on  this  topic 
alone,  my  feelings  towards  her  have  been  taught  to  wear  ‘‘  the 
badge  of  bitterness.”  As  a citizen  of  the  world,  I wmuld  point 
to  England  as  its  brightest  ornament, — but,  as  a disfranchised 
Ii’ishman,  I blush  to  belong  to  her.  Instead,  therefore,  of  hazard- 
ing any  farther  reflections  of  my  own  on  the  causes  and  character 
of  the  Rebellion  of  1798,  I shall  content  myself  with  giving  an 
extract  from  a Speech  which  Mr.  Sheridan  delivered  on  the  sub- 
ject, in  the  June  of  that  year  : — 


206 


MKMOlRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


What ! when  conciliation  was  held  out  to  the  people  of  Ireland,  was 
there  any  discontent  ? When  the  government  of  Ireland  was  agreeable  to 
the  people,  was  there  any  discontent  ? After  the  prospect  of  that  concilia- 
tion was  taken  away, — after  Lord  Fitzwilliam  was  recalled, — after  the 
hopes  which  had  been  raised  were  blasted, — w^hen  the  spirit  of  the  people 
was  beaten  down,  insulted,  despised,  I will  ask  any  gentleman  to  point  out 
a single  act  of  conciliation  which  has  emanated  from  the  Government  of 
Ireland?  On  the  contrary  ; has  not  that  country  exhibited  one  continual 
scene  of  the  most  grievous  oppression,  of  the  most  vexatious  proceedings  ] 
arbitrary  punishments  inflicted  ; torture  declared  necessary  by  the  highest 
authority  in  the  sister-kingdom  next  to  that  of  the  legislature  ? And  do 
jentlemen  say  that  the  indignant  spirit  which  is  roused  by  such  exercise 
3f  government  is  unprovoked  ? Is  this  conciliation  ? Is  this  lenity  ? Has 
everything  been  done  to  avert  the  evils  of  rebellion  ? It  is  the  fashion  to 
say,  and  the  Address  holds  the  same  language,  that  the  rebellion  which 
now  rages  in  the  sister-kiugdom  has  been  owing  to  the  machinations  of 
‘ wicked  men.^  Agreeing  to  the  amendment  proposed,  it  was  my  first  in- 
tention to  move  that  these  words  should  be  omitted.  But,  Sir,  the  fact 
they  assert  is  true,  dt  is,  indeed,  to  the  measures  of  wicked  men  that  the 
deplorable  state  of  Ireland  is  to  be  imputed.  It  is  to  those  wicked  Minis- 
ters who  have  broken  the  promises  they  held  out,  who  betrayed  the  party 
they  seduced  into  their  view^s,  to  be  the  instruments  of  the  foulest  treache- 
ry that  ever  was  practised  against  any  people.  It  is  to  those  wicked 
Ministers  who  have  given  up  that  devoted  country  to  plunder, — resigned 
it  a prey  to  this  faction,  by  which  it  has  so  long  been  trampled  upon,  and 
abandoned  it  to  every  species  of  insult  and  oppression  by  which  a country 
was  ever  overwhelmed,  or  the  spirit  of  a people  insulted,  that  we  owe  the 
miseries  into  w^hich  Ireland  is  plunged,  and  the  dangers  by  which  England 
is  threatened.  These  evils  are  the  doings  of  wicked  Ministers,  and  applied 
to  them,  the  language  of  the  Address  records  a fatal  and  melancholy 
truth.’’ 

The  popularity  which  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  on  the 
occasion  of  the  Mutiny,  had  acquired  for  him, — everywhere  but 
among  his  own  immediate  party, — seems  to  have  produced  a 
sort  of  thaw  in  the  rigor  of  his  opposition  to  Government ; and 
the  language  which  he  now  began  to  hold,  with  respect  to  the 
power  and  principles  of  France,  was  such  as  procured  for  him, 
more  than  once  in  the  course  of  the  present  Session,  the  unaccus- 
tomed tribute  of  compliments  from  the  Treasury-bench.  With- 
out. in  the  least  degree,  questioning  his  sincerity  in  this  change 


ftlGlIT  HON,  RlCHARb  BRlNStEt  SHERIDaN.  20< 


of  tone,  it  may  be  remarked,  that  the  most  watchful  observer  of 
the  tide  of  public  opinion  could  not  have  taken  it  at  the  turn 
more  seasonably  or  skilfully.  There  was,  indeed,  just  at  this 
time  a sensible  change  in  the  feeling  of  the  country.  The  dan- 
gers to  which  it  had  been  reduced  were  great,  but  the  crisis  seem- 
ed over.  The  new  wings  lent  to  Credit  by  the  paper-currency, 
— the  return  of  the  navy  to  discipline  and  victory, — the  disen- 
chantment that  had  taken  place  with  respect  to  French  principles, 
and  the  growing  persuasion,  since  strengthened  into  conviction, 
that  the  world  has  never  committed  a more  gross  mistake  than 
in  looking  to  the  French  as  teachers  of  liberty, — the  insulting 
reception  of  the  late  pacific  overtures  at  Lisle,  and  that  never- 
failing  appeal  to  the  pride  and  spirit  of  Englishmen,  which  a 
threat  of  invading  their  saored  shore  brings  with  it, — all  these 
causes  concurred,  at  this  moment,  to  rally  the  people  of  England 
round  the  Government,  and  enabled  the  Minister  to  extract  from 
the  very  mischiefs  which  himself  had  created  the  spirit  of  all 
others  most  competent  to  bear  and  surmount  them.  Such  is  the 
elasticity  of  a free  country,  however,  for  the  moment,  misgovern- 
ed,— and  the  only  glory  due  to  the  Minister  under  whom  such  a 
people,  in  spite  of  misgovernment,  flourishes,  is  that  of  having 
proved,  by  the  experiment,  how  difficult  it  is  to  ruin  them. 

While  Mr.  Sheridan  took  these  popular  opportunities  of  occa- 
sionally appearing  before  the  public,  Mr.  Fox  persevered,  with 
but  little  interruption,  in  his  plan  of  secession  from  Parliament 
altogether.  From  the  beginning  of  the  Session  of  this  year, 
when,  at  the  instance  of  his  constituents,  he  appeared  in  his  place 
to  oppose  the  Assessed  Taxes  Bill,  till  the  month  of  February, 
1800,  he  raised  his  voice  in  the  House  but  upon  two  questions, — 
each  “ dignus  vindice,” — the  Abolition  of  the  Slave-Trade,  and  a 
Change  of  System  in  Ireland.  He  had  thrown  into  his  opposition 
too  much  real  feeling  and  earnestness  to  be  able,  like  Sheridan, 
to  soften  it  down,  or  shape  it  to  the  passing  temper  of  the  times. 
Tn  the  harbor  of  private  life  alone  could  that  swell  subside ; and, 
however  the  country  missed  his  warning  eloquence,  there  is  little 
doubt  that  his  own  mind  and  heart  were  gainers  by  a retirement, 


208 


MteMOmS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THF 


in  which  he  had  leisure  to  prune  the  riiiHed  wings”  of  his  bene 
volent  spirit. — to  exchange  the  ambition  of  being  great  for  that 
of  being  useful,  and  to  listen,  in  the  stillness  of  retreat,  to  the 
lessons  of  a mild  wisdom,  of  which,  had  his  life  been  piolonged, 
his  country  would  have  felt  the  full  influence. 

From  one  of  Sheridan’s  speeches  at  this  time  we  find  that  the 
change  which  had  lately  taken  place  in  his  public  conduct  had 
given  rise  to  some  unworthy  imputations  upon  his  motives. 
There  are  few  things  less  politic  in  an  eminent  public  man  than 
a too  great  readiness  to  answer  accusations  against  his  character. 
For,  as  he  is,  in  general,  more  extensively  read  or  heard  than  his 
accusers,  the  first  intimation,’  in  most  cases,  that  the  public  re- 
ceives of  any  charge  against  him  will  be  from  his  own  answer  to 
it.  Neither  does  the  evil  rest  here; — for  the  calumny  remains 
end)almed  in  the  defence,  long  after  its  own  ephemeral  life  is 
gone.  To  this  unlucky  sort  of  sensitiveness  Mr.  Sheridan  was 
but  too  much  disposed  to  give  Avay,  and  accordingly  has  been 
himself  the  chronicler  of  many  charges  against  him,  of  which  we 
should  have  been  otherwise  wholly  ignorant.  Of  this  nature  were 
the  imputations  founded  on  his  alleged  misunderstanding  with 
the  Duke  of  Portland,  in  1789,  to  which  I have  already  made 
some  allusion,  and  of  which  we  should  have  known  nothing  but 
for  his  own  notice  of  it.  His  vindication  of  himself,  in  1795,  from 
the  suspicion  of  being  actuated  by  self-interest,  in  his  connection 
with  the  Prince,  or  of  having  received  from  him,  (to  use  his  own 
expressions,)  “ so  much  as  the  present  of  a horse  or  a picture,” 
is  another  instance  of  the  same  kind,  wFere  he  has  given  substance 
and  perpetuity  to  rumor,  and  marked  out  the  track  of  an  obscure 
calumny,  which  would  otherwise  have  been  forgotten.  At  the 
period  immediately  under  our  consideration  he  has  equally  ena- 
bled us  to  collect,  from  his  gratuitous  defence  of  himself,  that  the 
line  lately  taken  by  him  in  Parliament,  on  the  great  questions  of 
the  Mutiny  and  Invasion,  had  given  rise  to  suspicions  of  his  poli- 
tical steadiness,  and  to  rumors  of  his  approaching  separation  from 
Mr.  Fox. 

I am  sorry,’’  he  said,  on  one  occasion,  that  it  is  hardly  possible  for 


SIGHT  HON.  SICHASD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  209 


d-iiy  man  to  speak  in  this  House,  and  to  obtain  credit  for  speaking  from  a 
principle  of  public  spirit ; that  no  man  can  oppose  a Minister  without  being 
accused  of  faction,  and  none,  who  usually  opposed,  can  support  a Minister, 
or  lend  him  assistance  in  anything,  without  being  accused  of  doing  so  from 
interested  motives.  I am  not  such  a coxcomb  as  to  say,  that  it  is  of  muck 
importance  what  part  I may  take  ; or  that  it  is  essential  that  I should  divide 
a little  popularity,  or  some  emolument,  with  the  ministers  of  the  Crown  ; 
nor  am  I so  vain  as  to  imagine,  that  my  services  might  be  solicited.  Cer- 
tainly they  have  not.  That  might  have  arisen  from  want  of  importance  in 
myself,  or  from  others,  whom  I have  been  in  the  general  habit  of  opposing, 
conceiving  that  I was  not  likely  either  to  give  up  my  general  sentiments, 
or  my  personal  attachments.  However  that  may  be,  certain  it  is,  they 
never  have  made  any  attempt  to  apply  to  me  for  my  assistance.” 

In  reviewing  his  parliamentary  exertions  during  this  year,  it 
would  be  injustice  to  pass  over  his  speech  on  the  Assessed  Taxes 
Bill,  in  which,  among  other  fine  passages,  the  following  vehement 
burst  of  eloquence  occurs : 

But  we  have  gained,  forsooth,  several  ships  by  the  victory  of  the  First 
of  June, — by  the  capture  of  Toulon, — by  the  acquisition  of  those  charnel- 
houses  in  the  West  Indies,  in  which  50.000  men  have  been  lost  to  this 
country.  Consider  the  price  which  has  been  paid  for  these  successes.  For 
these  boasted  successes,  I will  say,  give  me  back  the  blood  of  Englishmen 
which  has  been  shed  in  this  fatal  contest, — give  me  back  the  250  millions 
of  debt  which  it  has  occasioned, — give  me  back  the  honor  of  the  country 
which  has  been  tarnished,— give  me  back  the  credit  of  the  country,  which 
has  been  destroyed,— give  me  back  the  solidity  of  the  Bank  of  England, 
which  has  been  overthrown  ; the  attachment  of  the  people  to  their  ancient 
Constitution,  which  has  been  shaken  by  acts  of  oppression  and  tyrannical 
laws, — give  me  back  the  kingdom  of  Ireland,  the  connection  of  which  is 
endangered  by  a cruel  and  outrageous  system  of  military  coercion,— give 
me  back  that  pledge  of  eternal  war,  which  must  be  attended  with  inevitar 
ble  ruin!” 

The  great  success  which  had  attended  The  Stranger,  and  the 
still  incTeasing  taste  for  the  German  Drama,  induced  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan, in  the  present  year,  to  embark  his  fame  even  still  more  re- 
sponsibly in  a venture  to  the  same  romantic  shores.  The  play 
of  Pizarro  was  brought  out  on  the  24th  of  May,  171)9.  The  he- 
ro’C  interest  of  the  plot,  the  splendor  of  the  pageantry,  and  some 


210  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

skilful  appeals  to  public  feeling  in  the  dialogue,  obtained  for  it 
at  once  a popularity  which  has  seldom  been  equalled.  As  far, 
indeed,  as  multiplied  representations  and  editions  are  a proof  of 
success,  the  legitimate  issue  of  his  Muse  might  well  have  been 
jealous  of  the  fame  and  fortune  of  their  spurious  German  relative. 
When  the  author  of  the  Critic  made  Puff  say,  “Now  for  my 
magnificence, — my  noise  and  my  procession !”  he  little  anticipated 
the  illustration  which,  in  twenty  years  afterwards,  his  own  ex- 
ample would  afford  to  that  ridicule.  Not  that  in  pageantry,  when 
tastefully  and  subordinately  introduced,  there  is  any  thing  to 
which  criticism  can  fairly  object : — it  is  the  dialogue  of  this  play 
that  is  unworthy  of  its  author,  and  ought  never,  from  either  mo- 
tives of  profit  or  the  vanity  of  success,  to  have  been  coupled  with 
his  name.  The  style  in  which  it  is  written  belongs  neither  to 
verse  nor  prose,  but  is  a sort  of  amphibious  native  of  both, — nei- 
ther gliding  gracefully  through  the  former  element,  nor  walking 
steadily  on  the  other.  In  order  to  give  pomp  to  the  language, 
inversion  is  substituted  for  metre ; and  one  of  the  worst  faults 
of  poetry,  a superfluity  of  epithet,  is  adopted,  without  that  har- 
mony which  alone  i iakes  it  venial  or  tolerable. 

It  is  some  relief,  however,  to  discover,  from  the  manuscripts 
in  my  possession,  that  Mr.  Sheridan’s  responsibility  for  the  defects 
of  Pizarro  is  not  very  much  greater  than  his  claim  to  a share  in 
its  merits.  In  the  plot,  and  the  arrangement  of  the  scenes,  it  is 
well  knowm,  there  is  but  little  alteration  from  the  German  origi- 
nal. The  omission  of  the  comic  scene  of  Diego,  which  Kotzebue 
himself  intended  to  omit, — the  judicious  suppression  of  Elvira’s 
love  for  Alonzo, — the  introduction,  so  striking  in  representation, 
of  Rolla’s  passage  across  the  bridge,  and  the  re-appearance  of  El- 
vira in  the  habit  of  a nun,  form,  I believe,  the  only  important 
points  in  which  the  play  of  Mr.  Sheridan  deviates  from  the  struc- 
ture of  the  original  drama.  With  respect  to  the  dialogue,  his 
share  in  its  composition  is  reducible  to  a compass  not  much  more 
considerable.  A few  speeches,  and  a few  short  scenes,  re-written, 
constitute  almost  the  whole  of  the  contribution  he  has  furnished 
to  it.  The  manuscript-translation,  or  rather  imitation,  of  the 


HIGHT  HON.  EiCHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  2ll 

Spaniards  in  Peru,”  which  he  used  as  the  ground- work  of  Pi- 
zarro,  has  been  preserved  among  his  papers : — and,  so  convenient 
was  it  to  his  indolence  to  take  the  style  as  he  found  it,  that,  ex- 
cept, as  I have  said,  in  a few  speeches  and  scenes,  which  might  be 
easily  enumerated,  he  adopted,  with  scarcely  any  alteration,  the 
exact  words  of  the  translator,  whose  taste,  therefore,  (whoever  he 
may  have  been,)  is  answerable  for  the  spirit  and  style  of  three- 
fourths  of  the  dialogue.  Even  that  scene  where  Cora  describes 
the  “ white  buds”  and  “ crimson  blossoms”  of  her  infant’s  teeth, 
which  I have  often  heard  cited  as  a specimen  of  Sheridan’s  false 
ornament,  is  indebted  to  this  unknown  paraphrast  for  the  whole 
of  its  embroidery. 

But  though  he  is  found  to  be  innocent  of  much  of  the  contra- 
band matter,  with  which  his  co-partner  in  this  work  had  already 
vitiated  it,  his  own  contributions  to  the  dialogue  are  not  of  a 
much  higher  or  purer  order.  He  seems  to  have  written  down 
to  the  model  before  him,  and  to  have  been  inspired  by  nothing 
but  an  emulation  of  its  faults.  His  style,  accordingly,  is  kept 
hovering  in  the  same  sort  of  limbo,  between  blank  verse  and 
prose, — while  his  thoughts  and  images,  however  shining  and 
effective  on  the  stage,  are  like  the  diamonds  of  theatrical  royalty, 
and  will  not  bear  inspection  off  it.  The  scene  between  Alonzo 
and  Pizarro,  in  the  third  act,  is  one  of  those  almost  entirely  re- 
written by  Sheridan  ; and  the  following  medley  groupe  of  per- 
sonifications affords  a specimen  of  the  style  to  which  his  taste 
could  descend : — 

“ Then  would  I point  out  to  him  where  now,  in  clustered  villages,  they 
live  like  brethren,  social  and  confiding,  while  through  the  burning  day 
Content  sits  basking  on  the  cheek  of  Toil,  till  laughing  Pastime  leads  them 
to  the  hour  of  rest.’’ 

The  celebrated  harangue  of  Rolla  to  the  Peruvians,  into  which 
Kemble  used  to  infuse  such  heroic  dignity,  is  an  amplification  of 
the  following  sentences  of  the  original,  as  I find  them  given  in 
Lewis’s  manuscript  translation  of  the  play  : — 

“ Rolla,  You  Spaniards  fight  for  gold  ; we  for  our  country. 


212 


MEMOIRS  OE  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


“ Alomc.  They  follow  an  adventurer  to  the  field  ; we  a monarch  whom 
we  love. 

Atalih,  And  a god  whom  we  adore 

This  speech,  to  whose  popular  sentiments  the  play  owed  much 
of  its  success,  was  chiefly  made  up  by  Sheridan  of  loans  from 
his  own  oratory.  The  image  of  the  Vulture  and  the  Lamb  was 
taken,  as  I have  already  remarked,  from  a passage  in  his  speech 
on  the  trial  of  Hastings ; — and  he  had,  on  the  subject  of  Inva- 
sion, in  the  preceding  year,  (1798,)  delivered  more  tnan  once 
the  substance  of  those  patriotic  sentiments,  which  were  now  so 
spirit-stirring  in  the  mouth  of  Rolla.  For  instance,  on  the  King’s 
Message  relative  to  preparation  for  Invasion : — 

“ The  Directory  may  instruct  their  guards  to  make  the  fairest  profes- 
sicns  of  how  their  army  is  to  act ; but  of  these  professions  surely  not  one 
can  be  believed.  The  victorious  Buonaparte  may  say  that  he  comes  like  a 
minister  of  grace,  with  no  other  purpose  than  to  give  peace  to  the  cottager, 
to  restore  citizens  to  their  rights,  to  establish  real  freedom,  and  a liberal 
and  humane  government.  But  can  there  be  an  Englishman  so  stupid,  so 
besotted,  so  befooled,  as  to  give  a moment’s  credit  to  such  ridiculous  pro- 
fessions ? What,  then,  is  their  object  ? They  come  for  what  they 

really  want : they  come  for  ships,  for  commerce,  for  credit,  and  for  capital. 
Yes  ; they  come  for  the  sinews,  the  bones — for  the  marrow  and  the  very 
heart’s  blood  of  Great  Britain.  But  let  us  examine  what  we  are  to  purchase 
at  this  price.  Liberty,  it  appears,  is  now  their  staple  commodity  : but  at- 
tend, I say,  and  examine  how  little  of  real  liberty  they  themselves  enjoy, 
who  are  sc  forward  and  prodigal  in  bestowing  it  on  others.” 

The  speech  of  Rolla  in  the  prison-scene  is  also  an  interpolation 
of  his  own, — Kotzebue  having,  far  more  judiciously,  (considering 
the  unfitness  of  the  moment  for  a tirade^)  condensed  the  refleo 
tions  of  Rolla  into  the  short  exclamation,  “ Oh,  sacred  Nature ! 
thou  art  still  true  to  thyself,”  and  then  made  him  hurry  into  the 
prison  to  his  friend. 

Of  the  translation  of  this  play  by  Lewis,  which  has  been  found 
among  the  papers,  Mr.  Sheridan  does  not  appear  to  have  made 
any  use ; — except  in  so  far  as  it  may  have  suggested  to  him  the 
idea  of  writing  a song  for  Cora,  of  which  that  gentleman  had  set 
him  an  example  in  a ballad,  beginning 


EIGHT  HON.  EICHAED  BKINSLEY  SHERIDAN,  21£ 


Soft  are  thy  s umbers,  soft  and  sweet, 

Hush  thee,  hush  thee,  hush  thee,  boy.” 

The  song  of  Mr.  Lewis,  however,  is  introduced,  with  some- 
what less  violence  to  probability,  at  the  beginning  of  the  Third 
Act,  where  the  women  are  waiting  for  the  tidings  oi  e battle, 
and  when  the  intrusion  of  a ballad  from  the  heroine,  though 
sufficiently  unnatural,  is  not  quite  so  monstrous  as  in  the  situa- 
tion which  Sheridan  has  chosen  for  it. 

The  following  stanza  formed  a part  of  the  song,  as  it  was 
originally  written : — 

“ Those  eyes  that  beam’d  this  morn  the  light  of  youth. 

This  morn  I saw  their  gentle  rays  impart 
The  day-spring  sweet  of  hope,  of  love,  of  truth. 

The  pure  Aurora  of  my  lover’s  heart. 

Yet  wilt  thou  rise,  oh  Sun,  and  waste  thy  light. 

While  my  Alonzo’s  beams  are  quench’d  in  night.’' 

The  only  question  upon  which  he  spoke  this  year  was  the  im- 
portant measure  of  the  Union,  which  he  strenuously  and  at  great 
length  opposed.  Like  every  other  measure,  professing  to  be  for 
the  benefit  of  Ireland,  the  Union  has  been  left  incomplete  in  the 
one  essential  point,  without  wffiich  there  is  no  hope  of  peace  or 
prosperity  for  that  country.  As  long  as  religious  disqualification 
is  left  to  “ lie  like  lees  at  the  bottom  of  men’s  hearts,”*  in  vain 
doth  the  voice  of  Parliament  pronounce  the  word  “ Union”  to  the 
two  Islands — a feeling,  deep  as  the  sea  that  breaks  between  them, 
answers  back,  sullenly,  ‘‘  Separation.” 

Through  the  remainder  of  Mr.  Sheridan’s  political  career  it  is 
my  intention,  for  many  reasons,  to  proceed  with  a more  rapid 
step ; and  merely  to  give  the  particulars  of  his  public  conduct, 
together  with  such  documents  as  I can  bring  to  illustrate  it,  with- 
out entering  into  much  discussion  or  comment  on  either. 

Of  his  speeches  in  1800, — during  which  year,  on  account,  per- 
haps, of  the  absence  of  Mr.  Fox  from  the  House,  he  was  particu- 

♦ “ It  lay  like  lees  at  the  bottom  of  men’s  hearts  ; and,  if  the  vessel  was  but  stirred, 
4 would  come  up.” — 3acx)n,  IJenry  ^71. 


S14 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


lariy  industrious, — I shall  select  a few  brief  specimens  for  the 
reader.  On  the  quertion  of  the  Grant  to  the  Emperor  of  Ger- 
many, he  said : — 

I do  think,  Sir,  Jacobin  principles  never  existed  much  in  this  country ; 
and  even  admitting  they  had,  I say  they  have  been  found  so  hostile  to  true 
liberty,  that,  in  proportion  as  we  love  it,  (and,  whatever  may  be  said,  I 
must  still  consider  liberty  an  inestimable  blessing,)  we  must  hate  and  de- 
test these  principles.  But  more, — I do  not  think  they  even  exist  in 
France.  They  have  there  died  the  best  of  deaths ; a death  I am  more 
pleased  to  see  than  if  it  had  been  effected  by  foreign  force, — they  have 
stung  themselves  to  death,  and  died  by  their  own  poison.^^ 

The  following  is  a concise  and  just  summary  of  the  causes  and 
effects  of  the  French  Eevolutionary  war : — 

‘‘France,  in  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution,  had  conceived  many  ro- 
mantic notions ; she  was  to  put  an  end  to  war,  and  produce,  by  a pure  form 
of  government,  a perfectibility  of  mind  which  before  had  never  been  rea- 
lized. The  Monarchs  of  Europe,  seeing  the  prevalence  of  these  new  prin- 
ciples, trembled  for  their  thrones.  France,  also,  perceiving  the  hostility  of 
Kings  to  her  projects,  supposed  she  could  not  be  a Republic  without  the 
overthrow  of  thrones.  Such  has  been  the  regular  progress  of  cause  and 
effect ; but  who  was  the  first  aggressor,  with  whom  the  jealousy  first  arose, 
need  not  now  be  a matter  of  discussion.  Both  the  Republic  and  the  Mon- 
archs who  opposed  her  acted  on  the  same  principles  ; — the  latter  said  they 
must  exterminate  Jacobins,  and  the  former  that  they  must  destroy  mon- 
archs. From  this  source  have  all  the  calamities  of  Europe  fiowed  ; and  it 
is  now  a waste  of  time  and  argument  to  inquire  further  into  the  subject.’^ 

t 

Adverting,  in  his  Speech  on  the  Negotiation  with  France,  to 
the  overtures  that  had  been  made  for  a Maritime  Truce,  he 
says,  with  that  national  feeling,  which  rendered  him  at  this  time 
so  popular, — 

“ No  consideration  for  our  ally,  no  hope  of  advantage  to  be  derived  from 
joint  negotiation,  should  have  induced  the  English  Government  to  think 
for  a moment  of  interrupting  the  course  of  our  naval  triumphs. — This  mea 
sure.  Sir,  would  have  broken  the  heart  of  the  navy,  and  would  have  damp- 
ed all  its  future  exertions.  IIow  would  our  gallant  sailors  have  felt,  when, 
chained  to  their  decks  like  galley-slaves,  they  saw  the  enemy’s  vessels  sail- 
ing under  their  bov/s  in  security,  and  proceeding,  without  a possibility  erf 


EIGHT  HOH.  EICHABD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  215 


being  molested,  to  revictual  those  places  which  had  been  so  long  blockaded 
by  their  astonishing  skill,  perseverance,  and  valor?  We  never  stood  more 
in  need  of  their  services,  and  their  feelings  at  no  time  deserved  to  be  more 
studiously  consulted.  The  north  of  Europe  presents  to  England  a most 
awful  and  threatening  aspect.  Without  giving  an  opinion  as  to  the  origin 
of  these  hostile  dispositions,  or  pronouncing  decidedly  whether  they  are 
wholly  ill-founded,  I hesitate  not  to  say,  that  if  they  have  been  excited  be- 
cause we  have  insisted  upon  enforcing  the  old  established  Maritime  Law 
of  Europe, — because  we  stood  boldly  forth  in  defence  of  indisputable  priv- 
ileges,—because  we  have  refused  to  abandon  the  source  of  our  prosperity, 
the  pledge  of  our  security,  and  the  foundation  of  our  naval  greatness,— 
they  ought  to  be  disregarded  or  set  at  defiance.  If  we  are  threatened  to 
be  deprived  of  that  which  is  the  charter  of  our  existence,  which  has  pro- 
cured us  the  commerce  of  the  world,  and  been  the  means  of  spreading  our 
glory  over  every  land, — if  the  rights  and  honors  of  our  flag  are  to  be  call- 
ed in  question,  every  risk  should  be  run,  and  every  danger  braved.  Then 
we  should  have  a legitimate  cause  of  war  ; — then  the  heart  of  every  Briton 
would  burn  with  indignation,  and  his  hand  be  stretched  forth  in  defence  of 
his  country.  If  our  flag  is  to  be  insulted,  let  us  nail  it  to  the  top-mast  of 
the  nation  ; there  let  it  fly  while  we  shed  the  last  drop  of  our  blood  in 
protecting  it,  and  let  it  be  degraded  only  when  the  nation  itself  is  over- 
whelmed.” 

He  thus  ridicules,  in  the  same  speech,  the  etiquette  that  had 
been  observed  in  the  selection  of  the  ministers  who  were  to  con- 
fer with  M.  Otto  : — 

“ This  stiff-necked  policy  shows  insincerity.  I see  Mr.  Napean  and  Mr. 
Hammond  also  appointed  to  confer  with  M.  Otto,  because  they  are  of  the 
same  rank.  Is  not  this  as  absurd  as  if  Lord  Whitworth  were  to  be  sent  to 
Petersburgh,  and  told  that  he  was  not  to  treat  but  with  some  gentleman  of 
six  feet  high,  and  as  handsome  as  himself?  Sir,  I repeat,  that  this  is  a stiff- 
necked policy,  when  the  lives  of  thousands  are  at  stake.” 

In  the  following  year  Mr.  Pitt  was  succeeded,  as  Prime  Mi- 
nister, by  Mr.  Addington.  The  cause  assigned  for  this  unex- 
pected change  was  the  difference  of  opinion  that  existed  between 
the  King  and  Mr.  Pitt,  with  respect  to  the  further  enfranchise.- 
ment  of  the  Catholics  of  Ireland.  To  this  measure  the  Minis- 
ter and  some  of  his  colleagues  considered  themselves  to  have 
been  pledged  by  the  Act  of  Union ; but,  on  finding  that  they 


216 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


could  not  carry  it,  against  the  scruples  of  their  Boyal  Master, 
resigned. 

Though  Mr.  Pitt  so  far  availed  himself  of  this  alleged  motive 
of  his  abdication  as  to  found  on  it  rather  an  indecorous  appeal 
to  the  Catholics,  in  which  he  courted  popularity  for  himself  at 
the  expense  of  that  of  the  King,  it  was  suspected  that  he  had 
other  and  less  disinterested  reasons  for  his  conduct.  Indeed, 
while  he  took  merit  to  himself  for  thus  resigning  his  supremacy, 
he  well  knew  that  he  still  commanded  it  with  “ a falconer’s  voice,” 
and,  whenever  he  pleased,  “ could  lure  the  tassel-gentle  back 
again.”  The  facility  with  which  he  afterwards  returned  to  power, 
without  making  any  stipulation  for  the  measure  now  held  to  be 
essential,  proves  either  that  the  motive  now  assigned  for  his 
resignation  was  false,  or  that,  having  sacrificed  power  to  prin- 
ciple in  1801,  he  took  revenge  by  making  principle,  in  its  turn,, 
give  way  tc  power  in  1804. 

During  the  early  part  of  the  new  Administration,  Mr.  Sher- 
idan appears  to  have  rested  on  his  arms, — having  spoken  so 
rarely  and  briefly  throughout  the  Session  as  not  to  have  fur- 
nished to  the  collector  of  his  speeches  a single  specimen  of  oratory 
worth  recording.  It  is  not  till  the  discussion  of  the  Definitive 
Treaty,  in  May,  1802,  that  he  is  represented  as  having  professed 
himself  friendly  to  the  existing  Ministry  : — “ Certainly,”  he  said, 
“ I have  in  several  respects  given  my  testimony  in  favor  of  the 
present  Ministry, — in  nothing  more  than  for  making  the  best 
peace,  perhaps,  they  could,  after  their  predecessors  had  left  them 
in  such  a deplorable  situation.”  It  was  on  this  occasion,  how- 
ever, that,  in  ridiculing  the  understanding  supposed  to  exist  be- 
tween the  Ex-minister  and  his  successor,  he  left  such  marks  of 
his  wit  on  the  latter  as  all  his  subsequent  friendship  could  not 
efface.  Among  other  remarks,  full  of  humor,  he  said, — 

“ I should  like  to  support  the  present  Minister  on  fair  ground  ; but  what 
is  he  ? a sort  of  outside  passenger, — or  rather  a man  leading  the  horses  round 
a corner,,  while  reins,  whip,  and  all,  are  in  the  hands  of  the  coachman  on 
the  uox  ! {looking  at  Mr.  PiWs  elevated  seat,  three  or  four  benches  above  that 
of  the  T'reasury.)  Why  not  have  an  union  of  the  two  Ministers,  or,  at  least, 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  217 


some  intelligible  connection  ? When  the  Ex-minister  quitted  ofiSce,  almost 
all  the  subordinate  Ministers  kept  their  places.  How  was  it  that  the  whole 
family  did  not  move  together  ? Had  he  only  one  covered  waggon  to  carry 
friends  and  goods  ? oi  has  he  left  directions  behind  him  that  they  may  know 
where  to  call  ? I remember  a fable  of  Aristoghaiies' s^  which  is  translated 
from  Greek  into  decent  English.  I mention  this  for  the  country  gentle- 
men. It  is  of  a man  that  sat  so  long  on  a seat,  (about  as  long,  perhaps,  as 
the  Ex-minister  did  on  the  Treasury-bench,)  that  he  grew  to  it.  When 
Hercules  pulled  him  off,  he  left  all  the  sitting  part  of  the  man  behind  him. 
The  House  can  make  the  allusion.”* 

We  have  here  an  instance,  in  addition  to  the  many  which  I 
have  remarked,  of  his  adroitness,  not  only  in  laying  claim  to  all 
waifs  of  wit,  “ uhi  non  apparehat  dominiis^'^  hut  in  stealing  the 
wit  himself,  wherever  he  could  find  it.  This  happy  application 
of  the  fable  of  Hercules  and  Theseus  to  the  Ministry  had  been 
first  made  by  Gilbert  Wakefield,  in  a Letter  to  Mr.  Fox,  which 
the  latter  read  to  Sheridan  a few  days  before  the  Debate ; and 
the  only  remark  that  Sheridan  made,  on  hearing  it,  was,  ‘‘  What 
an  odd  pedantic  fancy  !”  But  the  wit  knew  well  the  value  of  the 
jewel  that  the  pedant  had  raked  up,  and  lost  no  time  in  turning 
it  to  account  with  all  his  accustomed  skill.  The  Letter  of  Wake- 
field, in  which  the  application  of  the  fable  occurs,  has  been  omit- 


* The  following  is  another  highly  humorous  passage  from  this  speech  : — “ But  let 
France  have  colonies  I Oh,  yes  1 let  her  have  a good  trade,  that  she  may  be  afraid  of 
war,  says  the  Learned  Member, — that’s  the  way  to  make  Buonaparte  love  peace.  He 
has  had,  to  be  sure,  a sort  of  military  education.  He  has  been  abroad,  and  is  rather 
rough  company ; but  if  you  put  him  behind  the  cownter  a little,  he  will  mend  exceedingly. 
When  I was  reading  the  Treaty,  I thought  all  the  names  of  foreign  places,  viz.  Pondi- 
cherry, Chandenagore,  Cochin,  Martinico,  &c,  all  cessions.  Not  they, — they  are  all  so 
many  traps  and  holes  to  catch  this  silly  fellow  in,  and  make  a merchant  of  him  1 I really 
t_mk  the  best  way  upon  this  principle  would  be  this  : — let  the  merchants  of  London  open 
» public  subscription,  and  set  him  up  at  once.  I hear  a great  deal  respecting  a certain 
ztatue  about  to  be  erected  to  the  Right  Honorable  Gentleman,  (Mr.  Pitt,)  now  in  my  eye, 
at  a great  expense.  Send  all  that  money  over  to  the  First  Consul,  and  give  him,  what 
you  talk  of  so  much.  Capital,  to  begin  trade  with.  I hope  the  Right  Honorable  Gentle- 
man over  the  way  will,  like  the  First  Consul,  refuse  a statue  for  the  present,  and  post- 
pone it  as  a work  to  posterity.  There  is  no  harm,  however,  in  marking  out  the  place. 
The  Right  Honorable  Gentleman  is  musing,  perhaps,  on  what  square,  or  place,  he  will 
choose  for  its  erection.  I recommend  the  Bank  of  England.  Now  for  the  material 
Not  gold  : no,  no  ! — ^he  has  not  left  enough  of  il.  I should,  however,  propose  papier 
machc  and  old  bank  notes  !” 

VOL,  JI? 


19 


218 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


ted,  I know  not  why,  in  his  published  Correspondence  with  Mr. 
Fox  : but  a Letter  of  Mr.  Fox,  in  the  same  collection,  thus  al- 
ludes to  it: — “Your  story  of  Theseus  is  excellent,  as  applicable 
to  our  present  rulers ; if  you  could  point  out  to  me  where  1 
could  find  it,  I should  be  much  obliged  to  you.  The  Scholiast 
on  Aristophanes  is  too  wide  a description.”  Mr.  Wakefield  in 
answer,  says, — “ My  Aristophanes,  with  the  Scholia,  is  not  here. 
If  I am  right  in  my  recollection,  the  story  probably  occurs  in  the 
Scholia  on  the  Frogs,  and  would  soon  be  found  by  reference  to 
the  name  of  Theseus  in  Kuster’s  Index.”  ^ 

Another  instance  of  this  propensity  in  Sheridan,  (which  made 
him  a sort  of  Catiline  in  wit,  “ covetous  of  another’s  wealth,  and 
profuse  of  his  own,”)  occurred  during  the  preceding  Session.  As 
he  was  walking  down  to  the  House  with  Sir  Philip  Francis  and 
another  friend,  on  the  day  when  the  Address  of  Thanks  on  the 
Peace  was  moved,  Sir  Philip  Francis  pithily  remarked,  that 
“ it  was  a Peace  which  every  one  would  be  glad  of,  but  no  one 
would  be  proud  of.”  Sheridan,  who  was  in  a hurry  to  get  to  the 
House,  did  not  appear  to  attend  to  the  observation  ; — but,  before 
he  had  been  many  minutes  in  his  seat,  he  rose,  and,  in  the  course 
of  a short  speech,  (evidently  made  for  the  purpose  of  passing  his 
stolen  coin  as  soon  as  possible,)  said,  “ This,  Sir,  is  a peace  which 
every  one  will  be  glad  of,  but  no'  one  can  be  proud  of”* 

The  following  letter  from  Dr.  Parr  to  Sheridan,  this  year, 
records  an  instance  of  delicate  kindness  which  renders  it  well 
worthy  of  preservation : — 

“ Dear  Sir, 

“ I believe  that  you  and  my  old  pupil  Tom  feel  a lively  inter- 
est in  my  happiness,  and,  therefore,  I am  eager  to  inform  you 
that,  without  any  solicitation,  and  in  the  most  handsome  man- 
ner, Sir  Francis  Burdett  has  offered  me  the  rectory  of  Graff  ham 
in  Huntingdonshire ; that  the  yearly  value  of  it  now  amounts  .;o 


♦ A similar  theft  was  his  observation,  that  “ half  the  Debt  of  England  had  been  incu. . sd 
in  pulling  down  the  Bourbons,  and  the  other  half  in  selling  them  up”— wmcn  DOinV. 
inark  he  had  heard,  m conversation,  from  Sir  Arthur 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  219 

200Z.,  and  is  capable  of  considerable  improvement;  that  the 
preferment  is  tenable  with  my  Northamptonshire  rectory ; that 
the  situation  is  pleasant ; and  that,  by  making  it  my  place  of 
residence,  I shall  be  nearer  to  my  respectable  scholar  and  friend, 
Edward  Maltby,  to  the  University  of  Cambridge,  and  to  those 
Norfolk  comiections  which  I value  most  highly. 

“ I am  not  much  skilled  in  ecclesiastical  negotiations ; and  all 
my  efforts  to  avail  myself  of  the  very  obliging  kindness  condi- 
tionally intended  for  me  by  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  completely 
failed.  But  the  noble  friendship  of  Sir  Francis  Burdett  has  set 
everything  right.  I cannot  refuse  myself  the  great  satisfaction 
of  laying  before  you  the  concluding  passage  in  Sir  Francis’s 
letter : — 

“ ‘ I acknowledge  that  a great  additional  motive  with  me  to 
the  offer  I now  make  Dr.  Parr,  is,  that  I believe  I cannot  do  any 
thing  more  pleasing  to  his  friends,  Mr.  Fox,  Mr.  Sheridan,  and 
Mr.  Knight;  and  I desire  you,  Sir,  to  consider  yourself  as  oblig- 
ed to  them  only.’ 

“ You  will  readily  conceive,  that  I was  highly  gratified  with 
this  striking  and  important  passage,  and  that  I wish  for  an  early 
opportunity  of  communicating  with  yourself,  and  Mr.  Fox,  and 
Mr.  Knight. 

“ I beg  my  best  compliments  to  Mrs.  Sheridan  and  Tom ; and 
I have  the  honor  to  be.  Dear  Sir,  your  very  faithful  well-wisher, 
and  respectful,  obedient  servant, 

“ September  27,  Buckden,  “ S.  Parr.” 

“ Sir  Francis  sent  his  own  servant  to  my  house  at  Hilton  with 
the  letter ; and  my  wife,  on  reading  it,  desired  the  servant  to 
bring  it  to  me  at  Buckden,  near  Huntingdon,  where  I yesterday 
received  it.” 

It  was  about  this  time  that  ':he  Primary  Electors  of  the  Na 
tional  Institute  of  France  having  pioposed  Haydn,  the  grea*; 
composer,  and  Mr.  Sheridan,  as  candidates  for  the  class  of  Li- 
terature and  the  Fine  Arts  the  Institute,  with  a choice  not  alt<v 
j^ether  ^defensible,  elected  Haj^d*.,  Sonae  French  epigram*:’ 


220 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


on  this  occurrence,  which  appeared  in  the  Courier,  seem  to  have 
suggested  to  Sheridan  the  idea  of  writing  a few  English  jeux- 
d* esprit  on  the  same  subject,  which  were  intended  for  the  newspa- 
pers, but  I rather  think  never  appeared.  These  verses  show  that 
he  was  not  a little  piqued  by  the  decision  of  the  Institute ; and 
the  manner  in  which  he  avails  himself  of  his  anonymous  charac- 
ter to  speak  of  his  own  claims  to  the  distinction,  is,  it  must  be 
owned,  less  remai^kable  for  modesty  than  for  truth.  But  Vanity, 
thus  in  masquerade,  may  be  allowed  some  little  license.  The 
following  is  a specimen  : — 

“ The  wise  decision  all  admire ; 

’Twas  just,  beyond  dispute — 

Sound  taste ! which,  to  Apollo’s  lyre 
Preferr’d — a German  flute  !” 

Mr.  Kemble,  who  had  been  for  some  time  Manager  of  Drury- 
Lane  Theatre,  was,  in  the  course  of  the  year  1800 — 1,  tempted, 
notwithstanding  the  knowledge  which  his  situation  must  have 
given  him  of  the  embarrassed  state  o^the  concern,  to  enter  into 
negotiation  with  Sheridan  for  the  purchase  of  a share  in  the  pro- 
perty. How  much  anxiety  the  latter  felt  to  secure  such  an 
associate  in  the  establishment  appears  strongly  from  the  following 
paper,  drawn  up  by  him,  to  accompany  the  documents  submitted 
to  Kemble  during  the  negotiation,  and  containing  some  particu- 
lars of  the  property  of  Drury-Lane,  which  will  be  found  not 
uninteresting : — 

“ Outline  of  the  Terms  on  which  it  is  proposed  that  Mr.  Kemble 
shall  purchase  a Quarter  in  the  Property  of  Drury-Lane  Thea- 
tre. 

I ready  tbmk  tharc  cannot  be  a negotiation,  in  matter  of  purchase  and 
sale,  so  evidently  Lt  t'l'o  -'d.va  itage  of  both  parties,  if  brought  to  a satisfac- 
tory conclusion. 

I am  decided  that  the  management  of  the  theatre  cannot  be  respected, 
or  successful,  but  in  the  hands  of  an  actual  proprietor  ; and  still  the  better, 
if  he  is  himself  in  the  profession,  and  at  the  head  of  it  I am  desirous, 
therefore,  that  Mr.  Kenible  snould  be  a proprietor  and  manager 


EIGHT  HOH.  EICHAED  BEINSLEY  SHEEIDAN.  221 


“ Mr.  Kemble  is  the  person,  of  all  others,  who  must  naturally  be  desirous 
of  both  situations.  He  is  at  the  head  of  his  profession,  without  a rival ; he 
is  attached  to  it,  and  desirous  of  elevating  its  character.  He  may  be  as- 
sured of  proper  respect,  &c.,  while  I have  the  theatre  ; but  I do  not  think 
he  could  brook  his  situation  were  the  property  to  pass  into  vulgar  and  il- 
liberal hands, — an  event  which  he  knows  contingencies  might  produce. 
Laying  aside  then  all  affectation  of  indifference,  so  common  in  making  bar- 
gains, let  us  set  out  with  acknowledging  that  it  is  mutually  our  interest  to 
agree,  if  we  can.  At  the  same  time,  let  it  be  avowed,  that  I must  be  con- 
sidered as  trying  to  get  as  good  a price  as  I can,  and  Mr.  Kemble  to  buy  as 
cheap  as  he  can.  In  parting  with  theatrical  property,  there  is  no  standard, 
or  measure,  to  direct  the  price  : the  whole  question  is,  what  are  the  proba- 
ble profits,  and  what  is  such  a proportion  of  them  worth  ? 

“I  bought  of  Mr.  Garrick  at  the  rate  of  70,000Z.  for  the  whole  theatre. 
I bought  of  Mr.  Lacey  at  the  rate  of  94,000/.  ditto.  I bought  of  Dr.  Ford 
at  the  rate  of  86,000/.  ditto.  In  all  these  cases  there  was  a perishable  pa- 
tent, and  an  expiring  lease,  each  having  to  run,  at  the  different  periods  of 
the  purchases,  from  ten  to  twenty  years  only. 

“ All  these  purchases  have  undoubtedly  answered  well ; but  in  the  chance 
of  a Third  Theatre  consisted  the  risk  ; and  the  want  of  size  and  accommo- 
dation must  have  produced  it,  had  the  theatres  continued  as  they  were. 
But  the  great  and  important  feature  in  the  present  property,  and  which  is 
never  for  a moment  to  be  lost  sight  of,  is,  that  the  Monopoly  is,  morally 
speaking,  established  for  ever,  at  least  as  well  as  the  Monarchy,  Constitu- 
tion, Public  Funds,  &c., — as  appears  by  No.  1.  being  the  copy  of  ‘ The  Final 
Arrangement^  signed  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  by  authority  of  His  Majesty, 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  &c. ; and  the  dormant  patent  of 
Covent-Garden,  that  former  terror  of  Drury-Lane,  is  perpetually  annexed 
to  the  latter.  So  that  the  value  of  Drury-Lane  at  present,  and  in  the  for- 
mer sales,  is  out  of  all  comparison, — independently  of  the  new  building, 
superior  size,  raised  prices,  &c.,  &c.  But  the  incumbrances  on  the  theatre, 
whose  annual  charge  must  be  paid  before  there  can  be  any  surplus  profit, 
are  much  greater  than  in  Mr.  Garrick^s  time,  or  on  the  old  theatre  after- 
wards. Undoubtedly  they  are,  and  very  considerably  greater  ; but  what 
is  the  proportion  of  the  receipts  ? Mr.  Garrick  realized  and  left  a fortune 

of  140,000/.  (having  lived,  certainly,  at  no  mean  expense,)  acquired  in 

years,  on  an  average  annual  receipt  of  25,000/.  (qu.  this  ?)  Our  receipts 
cannot  be  stated  at  less  than  60,000/.  per  ann. ; and  it  is  demonstrable  that 
preventing  the  most  palpable  frauds  and  abuses,  with  even  a tolerable  sys- 
of  exertion  in  the  management,  must  bring  it,  at  the  least,  to  75,000/.; 
and  this  estimate  does  not  include  the  advantages  to  be  derived  from  the 
new  tavern,  passages,  Chinese  hall,  &c., — an  aid  to  the  receipt,  respecting 


222 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


the  amount  of  which  I am  very  sanguine.  What  then,  is  the  proba,bIe  pro- 
fit, and  y^hat  is  a quarter  of  it  worth  ? No.  3.  is  the  amount  of  three  sea- 
sons’ receipts,  the  only  ones  on  which  an  attempt  at  an  average  could  be 
justifiable.  No.  L is  the  future  estimate,  on  a system  of  exertion  and  good 
management.  No.  5.  the  actual  annual  incumbrances.  No.  6.  the  nightly 
expenses.  No.  7.  the  estimated  profits.  Calculating  on  which,  I demand 
for  a quarter  of  the  property,  * * * *^  reserving  to  myself  the 

existing  private  boxes,  but  no  more  to  be  created,  and  the  fruit-oflSces  and 
houses  not  part  of  the  theatre. 

“ I assume  that  Mr.  Kemble  and  I agree  as  to  the  price,  annexing  the 
following  conditions  to  our  agreement : — Mr.  Kemble  shall  have  his  engage- 
ment as  an  actor  for  any  rational  time  he  pleases.  Mr.  Kemble  shall  be 
manager,  with  a clear  salary  of  500  guineas  per  annum,  and  * * per  cent, 

on  the  clear  profits.  Mr.  Sheridan  engages  to  procure  from  Messrs.  Ham- 
mersleys  a loan  to  Mr.  Kemble  of  ten  thousand  pounds,  part  of  the  purchase- 
money  for  four  years,  for  which  loan  he  is  content  to  become  collateral  se- 
curity, and  also  to  leave  his  other  securities,  now  in  their  hands,  in  mort- 
gage for  the  same.  And  for  the  payment  of  the  rest  of  the  money,  Mr. 
Sheridan  is  ready  to  give  Mr.  Kemble  every  facility  his  circumstances  will 
admit  of.  It  is  not  to  be  overlooked,  that  if  a private  box  is  also  made 
over  to  Mr.  Kemble,  for  the  whole  term  of  the  theatre  lease,  its  value  can- 
not be  stated  at  less  than  3,500Z.  Indeed,  it  might  at  any  time  produce  to 
Mr.  Kemble,  or  his  assigns,  300Z.  per  annum.  Vide  No.  8.  This  is  a mate- 
rial deduction  from  the  purchase-money  to  be  paid. 

Supposing  all  this  arrangement  made,  I conceive  Mr.  Kemble’s  income 
would  stand  thus  : 


£ 

s. 

d. 

Salary  as  an  actor, 

- 1050 

0 

0 

In  lieu  of  benefit. 

- - 315 

0 

0 

As  manager,  - - - 

- 525 

0 

0 

Per  centage  on  clear  profit. 

- - - 300 

0 

0 

Dividend  on  quarter-share. 

- *2500 

0 

0 

£4690  0 0 


“ I need  not  say  how  soon  this  would  clear  the  whole  of  the  purchase. 
With  regard  to  the  title,  &c.  Mr.  Crews  and  Mr.  Pigott  are  to  decide.  As 
to  debts,  the  share  must  be  made  over  to  Mr.  Kemble  free  from  a claim 
even ; and  for  this  purpose  all  demands  shall  be  called  in,  by  public  adver- 


♦ “I  put  this  on  the  very  lowest  speculation.’ 


Right  hoh.  eiciiard  erihsley  sheridan-.  228 


tisemciit,  to  be  sent  to  Mr.  Kemble’s  own  solicitor.  In  short,  Mr.  Crews 
shall  be  satisfied  that  there  does  not  exist  an  unsatisfied  demand  on  the 
theatre,  or  a possibility  of  Mr.  Kemble  being  involved  in  the  risk  of  a shil- 
ling. Mr.  Hammersley,  or  such  person  as  Mr.  Kemble  and  Mr.  Sheridan 
shall  agree  on,  to  be  Treasurer,  and  receive  and  account  for  the  whole  re- 
ceipts, pay  the  charges,  trusts,  &c.  j and,  at  the  close  of  the  season,  the  sur- 
plus profits  to  the  proprietors.  A clause  in  case  of  death,  or  sale,  to  give 
che  refusal  to  each  other.’’ 

The  following  letter  from  Sheridan  to  Kemble,  in  answer,  as 
it  appears,  to  some  complaint  or  remonstrance  from  the  latter, 
in  his  capacity  of  Manager,  is  too  curiously  characteristic  of  the 
writer  to  be  omitted  ; — 

“ Dear  Kemble, 

“ If  I had  not  a real  good  opinion  of  your  principles  and  in- 
tentions upon  all  subjects,  and  a very  bad  opinion  of  your  nerves 
and  philosophy  upon  some,  I should  take  very  ill  indeed,  the 
letter  I received  from  you  this  evening. 

“ That  the  management  of  the  theatre  is  a situation  capable  of 
becoming  troublesome  is  information  which  I do  not  want,  and  a 
discovery  w^hich  I thought  you  had  made  long  since. 

“ I should  be  sorry  to  write  to  you  gravely  on  your  offer,  be- 
cause I must  consider  it  as  a nervous  flight,  which  it  would  be  as 
unfriendly  in  me  to  notice  seriously  as  it  would  be  in  you 
seriously  to  have  made  it.  ' 

“ What  I am  most  serious  in  is  a determination  that,  while 
the  theatre  is  indebted,  and  others,  for  it  and  for  me,  are  so  in- 
volved and  pressed  as  they  are,  I will  exert  myself,  and  give 
every  attention  and  judgment  in  my  power  to  the  establishment 
of  its  interests.  In  you  I hoped,  and  do  hope,  to  find  an  assistant, 
on  principles  of  liberal  and  friendly  confidence, — I mean  confi- 
dence that  should  be  above  touchiness  and  reserve,  and  that 
should  trust  to  me  to  estimate  the  value  of  that  assistance. 

‘‘  If  there  is  any  thing  amiss  in  your  mind,  not  arising  from  the 
trouhlesomeness  ot  your  situation,  it  is  childish  and  unmanly  not 
to  disclose  it  to  me.  The  frankness  with  which  I have  always 


224 


MEMOIRS  OE  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


dealt  towards  you  entitles  me  to  expect  that  you  should  have 
done  so. 

“ But  I have  no  reason  to  believe  this  to  be  the  case  ; and,  at- 
tributing your  letter  to  a disorder  which  I know  ought  not  to  be 
indulged,  I prescribe  that  you  shall  keep  your  appointment  at  the 
Piazza  Coffee-house,  to-morrow  at  five,  and,  taking  four  bottles 
of  claret  instead  of  three,  to  which  in  sound  health  you  might 
stint  yourself,  forget  that  you  ever  wrote  the  letter,  as  I shall 
that  I ever  received  it. 


“ R.  B.  Sheridan.” 


RIGHT  KOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  225 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

SI  ATE  OF  PARTIES. — OFFER  OF  A PLACE  TO  MR.  T. 
SHERIDAN. — RECEIVERSHIP  OF  THE  DUCHY  OF  CORN- 
WALL BESTOWED  UPON  ME,  SHd^RIDAN. — RETURN  OF 
MR.  PITT  TO  POWER. — CATHO1.IC  QUESTION. — ADMINIS- 
TRATION OF  LORD  GRENVILLE  AND  MR.  FOX. — DEATH 
OF  MR.  FOX. — REPRESENTATION  OF  WESTMINSTER. — 
DISMISSION  OF  THE  MINISTRY. — THEATRICAL  NEGOTIA- 
TION.— SPANISH  QUESTION. — LETTER  TO  THE  PRINCE. 

During  the  short  interval  of  peace  into  which  the  country  was 
now  lulled, — like  a ship  becalmed  for  a moment  in  the  valley 
between  two  vast  waves, — such  a change  took  place  in  the 
relative  positions  and  bearings  of  the  parties  that  had  been  so 
long  arrayed  against  each  other,  and  such  new  boundaries  and 
divisions  of  opinion  were  formed,  as  considerably  altered  the  map 
of  the  political  world.  While  Air.  Pitt  lent  his  sanction  to  the 
new  Administration,  they,  who  had  made  common  cause  with  him 
in  resigning,  violently  opposed  it ; and,  while  the  Ivlinisters  were 
thus  thwarted  by  those  who  had  hitherto  always  agreed  with  them, 
they  were  supported  by  those  Whigs  with  whom  they  had  before 
most  vehemently  differed.  Among  this  latter  class  of  their  friends 
was,  as  I have  already  remarked,  Air.  Sheridan, — who,  convinced 
that  the  only  chance  of  excluding  Air.  Pitt  from  power  lay  in 
strengthening  the  hands  of  those  who  were  in  possession,  not  only 
gave  them  the  aid  of  his  own  nam.e  and  eloquence,  but  endea- 
vored to  impress  the  same  views  upon  Air.  Fox,  and  exerted 
his  influence  also  to  procure  the  sanction  of  Carlton-House  in 
their  favor. 


VOL.  II, 


10^ 


226 


MEMOIRS  of  THE  LIFE  OP  THE 


It  cannot,  indeed,  be  doubted  that  Sheridan,  at  this  time, 
though  still  the  friend  of  Mr.  Fox,  had  ceased,  in  a great  degree, 
to  be  his  follower.  Their  views  with  respect  to  the  renewal  of 
the  war  were  wholly  different.  While  Sheridan  joined  in  the 
popular  feeling  against  France,  and  showed  his  knowledge  of 
that  great  instrument,  the  Public  Mind,  by  approaching  it  onlv 
with  such  themes  as  suited  the  martial  mood  to  which  it  was 
tuned,  the  too  confiding  spirit  of  Fox  breathed  nothing  but  for- 
bearance and  peace ; — and  he  who,  in  1786,  had  proclaimed  the 
“ natural  enmity  ” of  England  and  France,  as  an  argument  against 
their  commercial  intercourse,  now  asked,  with  the  softened  tone 
which  time  and  retirement  had  taught  him,  “ whether  France 
was  for  ever  to  be  considered  our  rival 

The  following  characteristic  note,  written  by  him  previously 
to  the  debate  on  the  Army  Estimates,  (December  8,  1802,) 
shows  a consciousness  that  the  hold  which  he  had  once  had  upon 
his  friend  was  loosened : — 

“ Dear  Sheridan, 

“ I mean  to  be  in  town  for  Monday, — that  is,  for  the  Army. 
As  for  to-morrow,  it  is  no  matter ; — I am  for  a largish  fleet, 
though  perhaps  not  quite  so  large  as  they  mean.  Pray,  do  not 
be  absent  Monday,  and  let  me  have  a quarter  of  an  hour’s  con- 
versation before  the  business  begins.  Remember,  I do  not  wish 
you  to  be  inconsistent,  at  any  rate.  Pitt’s  opinion  by  Proxy  is 
ridiculous  beyond  conception,  and  1 hope  you  will  show  it  in  that 
light.  I am  very  much  against  your  abusing  Bonaparte,  because 
I am  sure  it  is  impolitic  both  for  the  country  and  ourselves.  But, 
as  you  please ; — only,  for  God’s  sake.  Peace. j- 

“ Yours  ever 

“ Tuesday  night  “ C.  J.  Fox.” 

It  was  about  this  period  that  the  writer  of  these  pages  had, 

* Speech  on  the  Address  of  Thanks  in  1803. 

t These  last  words  are  an  interesting  illustration  of  the  line  in  Mr.  Rogers’s  Verses  on 
this  statesman  : — 

“ ‘ Peace,’  when  he  spoke,  was  ever  on  his  tongue.” 


klQrUT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  22? 


for  the  first  tim,e,  the  gratification  of  meeting  Mr.  Sheridan^  at 
Donington-Park,  the  seat  of  the  present  Marquis  of  Hastings ; 
—a  circumstance  which  he  recalls,  not  only  with  those  lively  im- 
pressions, that  our  first  admiration  of  genius  leaves  behind,  but 
with  many  other  dreams  of  youth  and  hope,  that  still  endear  to 
him  the  mansion  where  that  meeting  took  place,  and  among 
which  gratitude  to  its  noble  owner  is  the  only  one,  perhaps,  that 
has  not  faded.  Mr.  Sheridan,  I remember,  was  just  then  furnish- 
ing a new  house,  and  talked  of  a plan  he  had  of  levying  contri- 
butions on  his  friends  for  a library.  A set  of  books  from  each 
would,  he  calculated,  amply  accomplish  it,  and  already  the  inti- 
mation of  his  design  had  begun  to  “ breathe  a soul  into  the  silent 
walls.”*  The  splendid  and  well-chosen  library  of  Donington* 
was,  of  course,  not  slow  in  furnishing  its  contingent ; and  little 
was  it  foreseen  into  what  badges  of  penury  these  gifts  of  friend- 
ship would  be  converted  at  last. 

As  some  acknowledgment  of  the  services  which  Sheridan  had 
rendered  to  the  Ministry,  (though  professedly  as  a tribute  to  his 
public  character  in  general,)  Lord  St.  Vincent,  about  this  time, 
made  an  offer  to  his  son,  Mr.  Thomas  Sheridan,  of  the  place  of 
Registrar  of  the  Vice- Admiralty  Court  of  Malta, — an  office  which, 
during  a period  of  war,  is  supposed  to  be  of  considerable  emol- 
ument. The  first  impulse  of  Sheridan,  when  consulted  on  the 
proposal,  was,  as  I have  heard,  not  unfavorable  to  his  son’s  accept- 
ance of  it.  But,  on  considering  the  new  position  which  he  had, 
himself,  lately  taken  in  politics,  and  the  inference  that  might  be 
drawn  against  the  indepen denee  of  his  motives,  if  he  submitted 
to  an  obligation  wdiich  was  but  too  liable  to  be  interpreted,  as  less 
a return  for  past  services  than  a lien  upon  him  for  future  ones, 
(le  thought  it  safest  for  his  character  to  sacrifice  the  advantage, 
md,  desirable  as  was  the  provision  for  his  son,  obliged  him  to 
decline  it. 

The  following  passages  of  a letter  to  him  from  Mrs.  Sheridan 
on  this  subject  do  the  highest  honor  to  her  generosity,  spirit,  and 
good  sense.  They  also  confirm  what  has  generally  been  under- 
stood, that  the  King,  about  this  time,  sent  a most  gracious  mes- 

♦ Rogers 


228  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

sage  tc  Sheridan,  expressive  of  the  approbation  with  wliich  he 
regarded  his  public  conduct,  and  of  the  pleasure  he  should  feel 
in  conferiing  upon  him  some  mark  of  his  Royal  favor: — 

“ I am  more  anxious  than  I can  express  about  Tom’s  welfare. 
It  is,  indeed,  unfortunate  that  you  have  been  obliged  to  refuse 
these  things  for  him,  but  surely  there  could  not  be  two  opinions ; 
yet  why  will  you  neglect  to  observe  those  attentions  that  honor 
does  not  compel  you  to  refuse  ? Don’t  you  know  that  when  once 
the  King  takes  offence,  he  was  never  known  to  forgive  1 I sup- 
pose it  would  be  impossible  to  have  your  motives  explained  to 
him,  because  it  would  touch  his  weak  side,  yet  any  thing  is  better 
than  his  attributing  your  refusal  to  contempt  and  indifference. 
Would  to  God  I could  bear  these  necessary  losses  instead  of  Tom, 
particularly  as  I so  entirely  approve  of  your  conduct. 

“ I trust  you  will  be  able  to  do  something  positive  for  Tom 
about  money.  I am  willing  to  make  any  sacrifice  in  the  world 
for  that  purpose,  and  to  live  in  any  way  whatever.  Whatever 
he  has  now  ought  to  be  certain,  or  how  will  he  know  how  to  re- 
gulate his  expenses 

The  fate,  indeed,  of  young  Sheridan  was  peculiarly  tantalizing. 
Born  and  brought  up  in  the  midst  of  those  bright  hopes,  which 
so  long  encircled  his  father’s  path,  he  saw  them  all  die  away  as 
he  became  old  enough  to  profit  by  them,  leaving  difficulty  and 
disappointment,  his  only  inheritance,  behind.  Unprovided  with 
any  profe:??sion  by  which  he  could  secure  his  own  independence, 
and  shut  out,  as  in  this  instance,  from  those  means  of  advance- 
ment, which,  it  was  feared,  might  compromise  the  independence 
of  his  father,  he  was  made  the  victim  even  of  the  distinction  of 
his  situation,  and  paid  dearly  for  the  glory  of  being  the  son  of 
Sheridan.  In  the  expression  of  his  face,  he  resembled  much  his 
beautiful  mother,  and  derived  from  her  also  the  fatal  complaint 
of  which  he  died.  His  popularity  in  society  was  unexampled, — 
but  he  knew  how  to  attach  as  well  as  amuse;  and,  though 
living  chiefly  with  that  class  of  persons,  who  pass  over  the  sur- 


BIGHT  HOH.  BICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  229 


face  of  life,  like  Camilla  over  the  corn,  without  leaving  any  im- 
pression of  themselves  heliind,  he  had  manly  and  intelligent 
qualities,  that  deserved  a far  better  destiny.  There  are,  indeed, 
few  individuals,  whose  lives  have  been  so  gay  and  thoughtless, 
whom  so  many  remember  with  cordiality  and  interest:  and, 
among  the  numerous  instances  of  discriminating  good  nature,  by 
which  the  private  conduct  of  His  Eoyal  Highness  the  Duke  of 
York  is  distinguished,  there  are  none  that  do  him  more  honor 
than  his  prompt  and  efficient  kindness  to  the  interesting  family 
that  the  son  of  Sheridan  has  left  behind  him. 

Soon  after  the  Declaration  of  War  against  France,  when  an 
immediate  invasion  was  threatened  by  the  enemy,  the  Heir  Ap- 
parent, with  the  true  spirit  of  an  English  Prince,  came  forward 
to  make  an  offer  of  his  personal  service  to  the  country.  A cor- 
respondence upon  the  subject,  it  is  well  known,  ensued,  in  the 
course  of  which  His  Royal  Highness  addressed  letters  to  Mr. 
Addington,  to  the  Duke  of  York,  and  the  King.  It  has  been 
sometimes  stated  that  these  letters  were  from  the  pen  of  Mr. 
Sheridan  ; but  the  first  of  the  series  was  written  by  Sir  Robert 
Wilson,  and  the  remainder  by  Lord  Hutchinson. 

The  death  of  Joseph  Richardson,  which  took  place  this  year, 
was  felt  as  strongly  by  Sheridan  as  any  thing  can  be  felt,  by  those 
wffio,  in  the  whirl  of  worldly  pursuits,  revolve  too  rapidly  round 
Self,  to  let  any  thing  rest  long  upon  their  stirface.  With  a fidelity 
to  his  old  habits  of  unpunctuality,  at  which  the  shade  of  Richardson 
might  have  smiled,  he  arrived  too  late  at  Bagshot  for  the  funeral 
of  his  friend,  but  succeeded  in  persuading  the  good-natured  cler- 
gyman to  perform  the  ceremony  over  again.  Mr.  John  Taylor, 
a ‘gentleman,  whose  love  of  good-fellowship  and  wit  has  made  him 
the  welcome  associate  of  some  of  the  brightest  men  of  his  day, 
was  one  of  the  assistaijfis  at  this  shigular  scene,  and  also  joined 
in  the  party  at  the  inn  at  Bedfont  afterwards,  where  Sheridan,  it 
is  said,  drained  the  “ Cup  of  Memory”  to  his  friend,  till  he  found 
oblivion  at  the  bottom. 

At  the  close  of  the  session  of  1803,  that  strange  diversity  of 
opinions,  into  which  the  two  leading  parties  were  decomposed  by 


230 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


the  resignation  of  Mr.  Pitt,  had  given  way  to  new  varieties,  both 
of  cohesion  and  separation,  quite  as  little  to  be  expected  from  the 
natural  affinities  of  the  ingredients  concerned  in  them.  Mr.  Pitt, 
upon  perceiving,  in  those  to  whom  he  had  delegated  his  power, 
an  inclination  to  surround  themselves  with  such  strength  from 
the  adverse  ranks  as  would  enable  them  to  contest  his  resumption 
of  the  trust,  had  gradually  withdrawn  the  sanction  which  he  at 
first  afforded  them,  and  taken  his  station  by  the  side  of  the  other 
two  parties  in  opposition,  without,  however,  encumbering  himself, 
in  his  views  upon  office,  with  either.  By  a similar  movement, 
though  upon  different  principles,  Mr.  Fox  and  the  Whigs,  who 
had  begun  by  supporting  the  Ministry  against  the  strong  War- 
party  of  which  Lord  Grenville  and  Mr.  Wmdham  were  the  lead- 
ers, now  entered  into  close  co-operation  with  this  new  Opposition, 
and  seemed  inclined  to  forget  both  recent  and  ancient  differences 
in  a combined  assault  upon  the  tottering  Administration  of  Mr. 
Addington. 

The  only  parties,  perhaps,  that  acted  with  consistency  through 
these  transactions,  were  Mr.  Sheridan  and  the  few  who  followed 
him  on  one  side,  and  Lord  Grenville  and  his  friends  on  the  other. 
The  support  which  the  former  had  given  to  the  Ministry, — from 
a conviction  that  such  was  the  true  policy  of  his  party, — he  perse- 
vered in,  notwithstanding  the  suspicion  it  drew  down  upon  him,  to 
the  last;  and,  to  the  fhst,  deprecated  the  connection  with  the 
Grenvilles,  as  entangling  his  friends  in  the  same  sort  of  hollow 
partnership,  out  of  which  they  had  come  bankrupts  in  character 
and  confidence  before.'^  In  like  manner,  it  must  be  owned  the 
Opposition,  of  which  Lord  Grenville  was  the  head,  held  a course 
direct  and  undeviating  from  beginning  to  end.  Unfettered  by 
those  reservations  in  favor  of  Addington,  which  so  long  ernbar- 


* In  a letter  written  this  year  by  Mr.  Thomas  Sheridan  to  his  father,  there  is  the  fol- 
lowing passage  : — 

“ I am  glad  you  intend  writing  to  Lord ; he  is  quite  right  about  politics, — ^reprobates 

the  idea  most  strongly  of  any  union  with  the  Grenvilles,  &c.  which,  he  says,  he  sees  is 
Fox’s  leaning.  ‘ I agreed  with  your  father  pfrfectly  on  the  subject,  when  I left  him  in 
town  ; but  when  I saw  Charles  at  St.  Ann’s  Hill,  I perceived  he  was  wrong  and  obsti- 
nat5.’» 


HIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  2S1 


rassed  the  movements  of  their  former  leader,  they  at  once  started 
in  opposition  to  the  Peace  anc.  the  Mmistry,  and,  with  not  only 
Mr.  Pitt  and  Mr.  Fox,  but  the  whole  people  of  England  against 
them,  persevered  till  they  had  ranged  all  these  several  parties 
on  their  side  : — nor  was  it  altogether  vrithout  reason  that  this 
party  afterwards  boasted  that,  if  any  abandonment  of  principle 
had  occurred  in  the  connection  between  them  and  the  Whigs,  the 
surrender  was  assuredly  not  from  their  side. 

Early  in  the  year  1804,  on  the  death  of  Lord  Elliot,  the  office 
of  Receiver  of  the  Duchy  of  Cornwall,  which  had  been  held  by 
that  nobleman,  was  bestowed  by  the  Prince  of  Wales  upon  Mr. 
Sheridan,  “ as  a triffing  proof  of  that  sincere  friendship  Ilis  Royal 
Highness  had  always  professed  and  felt  for  him  through  a long 
series  of  years.”  His  Royal  Highness  also  added,  in  the  same 
communication,  the  very  cordial  words,  “ I wish  to  God  it  was 
better  worth  your  acceptance.” 

The  following  letter  from  Sheridan  to  Mr.  Addington,  com- 
municating the  intelligence  of  this  appointment,  shows  pretty 
plainly  the  terms  on  which  he  not  only  now  stood,  but  was  well 
inclined  to  continue,  with  that  Minister : — 

“Dear  Sir,  George- Street^  Tuesday  evening, 

“ Convinced  as  I am  of  the  sincerity  of  your  good  will  towards 
me,  I do  not  regard  it  as  an  impertinent  intrusion  to  inform  you 
that  the  Prince  has,  in  the  most  gracious  manner,  and  wholly 
unsolicited,  been  pleased  to  appoint  me  to  the  late  Lord  Elliot’s 
situation  in  the  Duchy  of  Cornwall.  I feel  a desire  to  communi- 
cate this  to  you  myself,  because  I feel  a confidence  that  you  will 
be  glad  of  it.  It  has  been  my  pride  and  pleasure  to  have  exerted 
my  humble  efforts  to  serve  the  Prince  without  ever  accepting  the 
slightest  obligation  from  him ; but,  in  the  present  case,  and  under 
the  present  circumstances,  I think  it  would  have  been  really  false 
pride  and  apparently  mischievous  affectation  to  have  declined  this 
mark  of  His  Royal  Highness’s  confidence  and  favor.  I will  not 
disguise  that,  at  this  peculiar  crisis,  I am  greatly  gratified  at  this 
event.  Had  it  been  the  result  of  a mean  and  subservient  dev(# 


232 


MEMOtBS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


tion  to  the  Prince's  every  wish  and  object,  I could  neither  havt 
respected  the  gift,  thp.  giver,  nor  myself ; but  when  I consider  how 
recently  it  was  my  misfortune  to  rind  myself  compelled  by  a 
sense  of  duty,  stronger  than  my  attachment  to  Irim,  wholly  to 
risk  the  situation  I held  in  his  conridence  and  favor,  and  that  upon 
a subject*  on  which  his  feelings  were  so  eager  and  irritable,  I 
cannot  but  regard  the  increased  attention,  with  which  he  has  since 
honored  me,  as  a most  gratifying  demonstration  that  he  has  clear- 
ness of  judgment  and  firmness  of  spirit  to  distinguish  the  real 
friends  to  his  true  glory  and  interests  from  the  mean  and  mer- 
cenary sycophants,  who  fear  and  abhor  that  such  friends  should 
be  near  him.  It  is  satisfactory  to  me,  also,  that  this  appointment 
gives  me  the  title  and  opportunity  of  seeing  the  Prince,  on  trying 
occasions,  openly  and  in  the  face  of  day,  and  puts  aside  the  mask  of 
mystery  and  concealment.  I trust  I need  not  add,  that  whatever 
small  portion  of  fair  influence  I may  at  any  time  possess  with  the 
Prince,  it  shall  be  uniformly  exerted  to  promote  those  feelings 
of  duty  and  affection  towards  their  Majesties,  which,  though  seem 
ingly  interrupted  by  adverse  circumstances,  I am  sure  are  in  his 
heart  warm  and  unalterable — and,  as  far  as  I may  presume,  that 
general  concord  throughout  his  illustrious  family,  which  must  be 
looked  to  by  every  honest  subject,  as  an  essential  part  of  the 
public  strength  at  this  momentous  period.  I have  the  honor  to 
be,  with  great  respect  and  esteem, 

“Your  obedient  Servant, 

“ Right  Hon,  Henry  Addington,  “ R.  B.  Sheridan.” 

The  same  views  that  influenced  Mr.  Sheridan,  Lord  Moira, 
and  others,  in  supporting  an  administration  which,  with  all  its 
defects,  they  considered  preferable  to  a relapse  into  the  hands  of 
Mr.  Pitt,  had  led  Mr.  Tierney,  at  the  close  of  the  last  Session, 
to  confer  upon  it  a still  more  efficient  sanction,  by  enrolling  him- 
self in  its  ranks  as  Treasurer  of  the  Navy.  In  the  early  part  of 

* The  offer  made  by  the  Prince  of  his  personal  services  in  1803, — on  which  occasion 
Sheridan  coincided  with  the  views  of  Mr.  Addington  somewhat  more  than  was  agree- 
Ale  to  His  Royal  Higlmess. 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  233 


the  present  year,  another  ornament  of  the  Whig  party,  Mr. 
Erskine,  was  on  the  point  of  following  in  the  same  footsteps,  by 
accepting,  from  Mr.  Addington,  the  office  of  Attorney-General. 
He  had,  indeed,  oroceeded  so  far  in  his  intention  as  to  submit 
the  overtures  of  the  Minister  to  the  consideration  of  the  Prince, 
in  a letter  which  was  transmitted  to  his  Royal  Highness  by 
Sheridan.  The  answer  of  the  Prince,  conveyed  also  through 
Sheridan,  while  it  expressed  the  most  friendly  feelings  towards 
Erskine,  declined,  at  the  same  time,  giving  any  opinion  as  to 
either  his  acceptance  or  refusal  of  the  office  of  Attorney-General, 
if  offered  to  him  under  the  present  circumstances.  His  Royal 
Highness  also  added  the  expression  of  his  sincere  regret,  that  a 
proposal  of  this  nature  should  ha,ve  been  submitted  to  his  con- 
sideration by  one,  of  whose  attachment  and  fidelity  to  himself 
he  was  well  convinced,  but  who  ought  to  have  felt,  from  the  line 
of  conduct  adopted  and  persevered  in  by  his  Royal  Highness, 
that  he  was  the  very  last  person  that  should  have  been  applied 
to  for  either  his  opinion  or  countenance  respecting  the  political 
conduct  or  connection  of  any  public  character, — especially  of  one 
so  intimately  connected  with  him,  and  belonging  to  his  family. 

If,  at  any  time,  Sheridan  had  entertained  the  idea  of  associating 
himself,  by  office,  with  the  Ministry  of  Mr.  Addington,  (and  pro- 
posals to  this  effect  were,  it  is  certain,  made  to  him,)  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  existence  of  such  feelings  as  prompted  this  answer  to 
Mr.  Erskine  would,  of  course,  have  been  sufficient  to  divert  him 
Tom  the  intention. 

The  following  document,  which  I have  found,  in  his  own  hand- 
writing, and  which  was  intended,  apparently,  for  publication  in 
the  newspapers,  contains  some  particulars  with  respect  to  the 
proceedings  of  his  party  at  this  time,  which,  coming  from  such 
& source,  may  be  considered  as  authentic : — 

“ State  of  Parties. 

“ Among  the  various  rumors  of  Coalitions,  or  attempted  Co- 
abdons,  we  have  already  expressed  our  disbelief  in  that  reported 
tc  lave  taken  place  between  the  Grenville-Windhamites  and  Mr. 


234 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Fox.  At  least,  if  it  was  ever  in  negotiation,  we  have  reason  to 
think  it  received  an  early  check,  arising  from  a strong  party  of 
the  Old  Opposition  protesting  against  it.  The  account  of  this 
transaction,  as  whispered  in  the  political  circles,  is  as  follows  : — 

“ In  consequence  of  some  of  the  most  respectable  members  of 
the  Old  Opposition  being  sounded  on  the  subject,  a meeting  was 
held  at  Norfolk-House  ; when  it  was  determined,  with  very  few 
dissentient  voices,  to  present  a friendly  remonstrance  on  the  sub- 
ject to  Mr.  Fox,  stating  the  manifold  reasons  which  obviously 
presented  themselves  against  such  a procedure,  both  as  affecting 
Character  and  Party.  It  was  urged  that  the  present  Ministers 
nad,  on  the  score  of  innovation  on  the  Constitution,  given  the 
Whigs  no  pretence  for  complaint  whatever;  and,  as  to  their 
alleged  incapacity,  it  remained  to  be  proved  that  they  w^ere 
capable  of  committing  errors  and  producing  miscarriages,  equal 
to  those  which  had  marked  the  councils  of  their  predecessors, 
whom  the  measure  in  question  was  expressly  calculated  to  re- 
place in  power.  At  such  a momentous  crisis,  therefore,  waving 
all  considerations  of  past  political  provocation,  to  attempt,  by 
the  strength  and  combination  of  party,  to  expel  the  Ministers  of 
His  Majesty’s  choice,  and  to  force  into  his  closet  those  whom  the 
Whigs  ought  to  be  the  first  to  rejoice  that  he  had  excluded  from 
it,  was  stated  to  be  a proceeding  which  would  assuredly  revolt 
the  public  feeling,  degrade  the  character  of  Parliament,  and  pro- 
duce possibly  incalculable  mischief  to  the  country. 

“We  understand  that  Mr.  Fox’s  reply  was,  that  he  would 
never  take  any  political  step  against  the  wishes  and  advice  of  the 
majority  of  his  old  friends. 

“ The  paper  is  said  to  have  been  drawn  up  by  Mr.  Erskine, 
and  to  have  been  presented  to  Mr.  Fox  by  his  Grace  of  Norfolk, 
on  the  day  His  Majesty  was  pronounced  to  be  recovered  from 
his  first  illness.  Rumor  places  among  the  supporters  of  this 
measure  the  written  authority  of  the  Duke  of  Northumberland 
and  the  Earl  of  Moira,  with  the  signatures  of  Messrs.  Erskine, 
Shendan,  Shum.  Curwen,  Western,  Brogden,  and  a long  et  ccetera. 
It  is  said  also  that  the  Prince’s  sanction  had  been  previously 


RiaHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  235 


given  to  the  Duke, — His  Royal  Highness  deprecating  all  party- 
struggle,  at  a moment  when  the  defence  of  all  that  is  dear  to 
Britons  ought  to  be  the  single  sentiment  that  should  fill  the  pub- 
lic mind. 

'‘We  do  not  vouch  for  the  above  being  strictly  accurate ; but 
we  are  confident  that  it  is  not  far  from  the  truth.” 

The  illness  of  the  King,  referred  to  in  this  paper,  had  been 
first  publicly  announced  in  the  month  of  February,  and  was  for 
some  time  considered  of  so  serious  a nature,  that  arrangements 
were  actually  in  progress  for  the  establishment  of  a Regency. 
Mr.  Sheridan,  who  now  formed  a sort  of  connecting  link  between 
Carlton-House  and  the  Minister,  took,  of  course,  a leading  part 
in  the  negotiations  preparatory  to  such  a measure.  It  appears, 
from  a letter  of  Mr.  Fox  on  the  subject,  that  the  Prince  and 
another  person,  whom  it  is  unnecessary  to  name,  were  at  one  mo- 
ment not  a little  alarmed  by  a rumor  of  an  intention  to  associ- 
ate the  Duke  of  York  and  the  Queen  in  the  Regency.  Mr. 
Fox,  however,  begs  of  Sheridan  to  tranquillize  their  minds  on 
this  point : — the  intentions,  (he  adds,)  of  “ the  Doctor,”^'  though 
bad  enough  in  all  reason,  do  not  go  to  such  lengths ; and  a 
proposal  of  this  nature,  from  any  other  quarter,  could  be  easily 
defeated. 

Within  about  two  months  from  the  date  of  the  Remonstrance, 
which,  according  to  a statement  already  given,  was  presented  to 
Mr.  Fox  by  his  brother  Whigs,  one  of  the  consequences  which  it 
prognosticated  from  the  connection  of  their  party  with  the  Gren- 
villes took  place,  in  the  resignation  of  Mr.  Addington  and  the 
return  of  Mr.  Pitt  to  power. 

The  confidence  of  Mr.  Pitt,  in  thus  taking  upon  himself,  almost 


• To  the  infliction  of  this  nickname  on  his  friend,  Mr.  Addington,  Sheridan  was,  in.  no 
email  degree,  accessory,  by  applying  to  those  who  disapproved  of  his  administration, 
and  yet  gave  no  reasons  for  their  disapprobation,  the  well-known  lines, — 

“I  do  not  love  thee.  Doctor  Fell, 

And  why  I cannot  tell  • 

But  this  I know  full  well, 

I do  not  love  thee,  Doctor  Fell.” 


236 


MEMOIPS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


single-handed,  the  government  of  the  country  at  suci  an  awful 
crisis,  was,  he  soon  perceived,  not  shared  by  the  public.  A ge- 
neral expectation  had  prevailed  that  the  three  great  Parties, 
which  had  late'y  been  encamped  together  on  the  field  of  opposi 
tion,  would  have  each  sent  its  Chiefs  into  the  public  councils,  and 
thus  formed  such  a Congress  of  power  and  talent  as  the  difficul 
ties  of  the  empire,  in  that  trying  moment,  demanded.  This 
hope  had  been  frustrated  by  the  repugnance  of  the  King  to  Mr. 
Fox,  and  the  too  ready  facility  with  which  Mr.  Pitt  had  given 
w^ay  to  it.  Not  only,  indeed,  in  his  undignified  eagerness  for  of- 
fice, did  he  sacrifice  without  stipulation  the  important  question, 
which,  but  two  years  before,  had  been  made  the  sine-qua~non  of 
his  services,  but,  in  yielding  so  readily  to  the  Royal  prejudices 
against  hie  rival,  he  gave  a sanction  to  that  unconstitutional  prin- 
cipje  of  exclusion,^  which,  if  thus  acted  upon  by  the  party-feelings 
of  the  Monarch,  would  soon  narrow  the  Throne  into  the  mere 
nucleus  of  a fiivored  faction.  In  allowing,  too,  his  friends  and 
partisans  to  throw  the  whole  blame  of  this  exclusive  Ministry  on 
the  King,  he  but  repeated  the  indecorum  of  which  he  had  been 
guilty  in  1802.  For,  having  at  that  time  made  use  of  the  reli- 
gious prejudices  of  the  Monarch,  as  a pretext  for  his  manner  of 
quitting  office,  he  now  employed  the  political  prejudices  of  the 
same  personage,  as  an  equally  convenient  excuse  for  his  manner 
of  returning  to  it. 

A few  extracts  from  the  speech  of  Mr.  Sheridan  upon  the  Ad- 
ditional Force  Bill, — the  only  occasion  on  which  he  seems  to  have 
spoken  during  the  present  year, — will  show  that  the  rarity  of  his 
displays  was  not  owing  to  any  failure  of  power,  but  rather,  per- 

* “ This  principle  of  personal  exclusion,  (said  LoiU  ville.)  is  one  of  which  I never 
can  approve,  because,  independently  of  its  operation  to  prevent  Parliament  and  the  peo- 
ple from  enjoying  the  Administration  they  desired,  and  which  it  was  their  particular  in- 
terest to  have,  it  tends  to  establish  a dangerous  precedent,  that  would  afftrd  loo  much 
opportunity  of  private  pique  against  the  public  mtere..t.  I,  for  one,  therefore,  refused  to 
connect  myself  with  any  one  argument  that  sh  mid  sanction  that  principle  ; and,  :n  my 
opinion,  every  man  who  accepted  office  under  that  Ami'  istration  is,  according  to  Jtie  let- 
ter and  spirit  of  the  constitution,  responsible  for  its  character  and  construction,  and  the 
principle  upon  which  it  is  founded.” — Sjtscch  of  Lord  Grentrilleon  the  motion  of  Lord 
Damleyfor  the  repeal  of  the  AdditUmal  Force  F b.  15, 1806. 


ttlGHT  HOiJ.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  23< 

haps,  to  the  increasing  involvement  of  his  circumstances,  which 
left  no  time  for  the  thought  and  preparation  that  all  his  public 
efforts  required. 

Mr.  Pitt  had,  at  the  commencement  of  this  year,  condescended 
to  call  to  his  aid  the  co-operation  of  Mr.  Addington,  Lord  Buck- 
inghamshire, and  other  members  of  that  Administration,  which 
had  withered  away,  but  a few  months  before,  under  the  blight 
of  his  sarcasm  and  scorn.  In  alluding  to  this  Coalition,  Sheridan 
says,— 

The  Right  Honorable  Gentleman  v/ent  into  office  alone  ; — but,  lest  the 
government  should  become  too  full  of  vigor  from  his  support,  he  thought 
proper  to  beckon  back  some  of  the  weakness  of  the  former  administration. 
He,  I suppose,  thought  that  the  Ministry  became,  from  his  support,  like 
spirits  above  proof,  and  required  to  be  diluted  ; that,  like  gold  refined  to  a 
certain  degree,  it  would  be  unfit  for  use  without  a certain  mixture  of  alloy  ; 
that  the  administration  would  be  too  brilliant,  and  dazzle  the  House,  unless 
he  called  back  a certain  part  of  the  mist  and  fog  of  the  last  administration 
to  render  it  tolerable  to  the  eye.  As  to  the  great  change  made  in  the  Mi- 
nistry by  the  introduction  of  the  Right  Honorable  Gentleman  himself,  I 
vould  ask,  does  he  imagine  that  he  came  back  to  office  with  the  same  esti- 
mation that  he  left  it?  lam  sure  he  is  much  mistaken  if  he  fancies  that  he 
did.  The  Right  Honorable  Gentleman  retired  from  office  because,  as  was 
stated,  he  could  not  carry  an  important  question,  which  he  deemed  neces- 
sary to  satisfy  the  just  claims  of  the  Catholics  ; and  in  going  out  he  did  not 
hesitate  to  tear  off  the  sacred  veil  of  Majesty,  describing  his  Sovereign  as 
the  only  person  that  stood  in  the  way  of  this  desirable  object.  After  the 
Right  Honorable  Gentleman's  retirement,  he  advised  the  Catholics  to  look 
to  no  one  but  him  for  the  attainment  of  their  rights,  and  cautiously  to  ab- 
stain from  forming  a connection  with  any  other  person.  But  how  does  it 
appear,  now  that  the  Right  Honorable  Gentleman  is  returned  to  office  ? 
He  declines  to  perform  his  promise  ; and  has  received,  as  his  coUeagues  in 
office,  those  who  are  pledged  to  resist  the  measure.  Does  not  the  Right 
Honorable  Gentleman  then  feel  that  he  comes  back  to  office  with  a cha- 
racter degraded  by  the  violation  of  a solemn  pledge,  given  to  a great  and 
respectable  body  of  the  people,  upon  a particular  and  momentous  occasion  ? 
Does  the  Right  Honorable  Gentleman  imagine  either  that  he  returns  to 
office  with  the  same  character  for  political  wisdom,  after  the  description 
which  he  gave  of  the  talents  and  capacity  of  his  predecessors,  and  after 
having  shown,  by  his  own  actions,  that  his  description  was  totally  un- 
founded 


238 


Memoirs  of  me  life  of  thf 


In  alluding  to  Lord  Melville’s  appointment  to  the  Admiralty, 
he  says, — 

But  then,  I am  told,  there  is  the  First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty, — ‘ Do 
you  forget  the  leader  of  the  grand  Catamaran  project?  Are  you  not 
aware  of  the  important  change  in  that  department,  and  the  advantage  the 
country  is  likely  to  derive  from  that  change  V Why,  I answer,  that  I do 
not  know  of  any  peculiar  qualifications  the  Noble  Lord  has  to  preside  over 
the  Admiralty ; but  I do  know,  that  if  I were  to  judge  of  him  from  the 
kind  of  capacity  he  evinced  while  Minister  of  War,  I should  entertain  little 
hopes  of  him.  If,  however,  the  Right  Honorable  Gentleman  should  say  to 
me,  ‘ Where  else  would  you  put  that  Noble  Lord,  would  you  have  him  ap- 
pointed War-Minister  again  V I should  say,  Oh  no,  by  no  means, — I re- 
member too  well  the  expeditions  to  Toulon,  to  Quiberon,  to  Corsica,  and 
to  Holland,  the  responsibility  for  each  of  which  the  Noble  Lord  took  on 
himself,  entirely  releasing  from  any  responsibility  the  Commander  in  Chief 
and  the  Secretary  at  War.  I also  remember  that,  which,  although  so  glo- 
rious to  our  arms  in  the  result,  I still  shall  call  a most  unwarrantable 
project, — the  expedition  to  Egypt.  It  may  be  said,  that  as  the  Noble  Lord 
was  so  unfit  for  the  military  department,  the  naval  was  the  proper  place 
for  him.  Perhaps  there  were  people  who  would  adopt  this  whimsical  rea- 
soning. I remember  a story  told  respecting  Mr.  Garrick,  who  was  once 
applied  to  by  an  eccentric  Scotchman,  to  introduce  a production  of  his  on 
the  stage.  This  Scotchman  was  such  a good-humored  fellow,  that  he  was 
called  ^ Honest  Johnny  M’Cree.’  Johnny  wrote  four  acts  of  a tragedy, 
which  he  showed  to  Mr.  Garrick,  who  dissuaded  him  from  finishing  it ; 
telling  him  that  his  talent  did  not  lie  that  way  ; so  Johnny  abandoned  the 
tragedy,  and  set  about  writing  a comedy.  When  this  was  finished,  he 
showed  it  to  Mr.  Garrick,  who  found  it  to  be  still  more  exceptionable  than 
the  tragedy,  and  of  course  could  not  be  persuaded  to  bring  it  forward  on 
the  stage.  This  surprised  poor  Johnny,  and  he  remonstrated.  ^ Nay,  now, 
David,  (said  Johnny,)  did  you  not  tell  me  my  talents  did  not  lie  in  tra- 
gedy?’— ‘ Yes,  (replied  Garrick,)  but  I did  not  tell  you  that  they  lay  in 
comedy.’ — ^ Then,  (exclaimed  Johnny,)  gin  they  dinna  lie  there,  where  the 
de’il  dittha  lie,  mon  ?’  Unless  the  Noble  Lord  at  the  head  of  the  Admiral- 
ty has  the  same  reasoning  in  his  mind  as  Johnny  MUree,  he  cannot  poss^ 
bly  suppose  thah  his  incapacity  for  the  direction  of  the  War-department 
necessarily  qualifies  him  for  the  Presidency  of  the  Naval.  Perhaps,  if  the 
Noble  Lord  be  told  that  he  has  no  talents  for  the  latter.  His  Lordship  may 
exclaim  with  honest  Johnny  M^Cree,  ^ Gin  they  dinna  lie  there,  where  the 
de’il  dittha  lie,  mon  ?’  ” 

On  the  10th  of  May,  the  claims  of  the  Roman  Catholics  of  Ire 


fiON.  iliCHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  239 

land,  were,  for  the  first  time,  brought  under  the  notice  of  the  Im- 
perial Parliament,  by  Lord  Grenville  in  the  House  of  Lords,  and 
by  Mr.  Fox  in  the  House  of  Commons.  A few  days  before  the 
debate,  as  appears  by  the  following  remarkable  letter,  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan was  made  the  medium  of  a communication  from  Carlton- 
House,  the  object  of  which  was  to  prevent  Mr.  Fox  from  pre- 
senting the  Petition. 

“Dear  Sheridan, 

“ I did  not  receive  your  letter  till  last  night. 

“ I did,  on  Thursday,  consent  to  be  the  presenter  of  the  Catho- 
lic Petition,  at  the  request  of  the  Delegates,  and  had  further  con- 
versation on  the  subject  with  them  at  Lord  Grenville’s  yesterday 
morning.  Lord  Grenville  also  consented  to  present  the  Petition 
to  the  House  of  Lords.  Now,  therefore,  any  discussion  on  thAs 
part  of  the  subject  would  be  too  late ; but  I will  fairly  own,  that, 
if  it  were  not,  I could  not  be  dissuaded  from  doing  the  public  act, 
which,  of  all  others,  it  will  give  me  the  greatest  satisfaction  and 
pride  to  perform.  No  past  event  in  my  political  life  ever  did 
and  no  future  one  ever  can,  give  me  such  pleasure. 

“ I am  sure  you  know  how  painful  it  would  be  to  me  to  dis- 
obey any  command  of  His  Eoyal  Highness’s,  or  even  to  act  in 
any  manner  that  might  be  in  the  slightest  degree  contrary  to  his 
wishes,  and  therefore  I am  not  sorry  that  your  intimation  came 
too  late.  I shall  endeavor  to  see  the  Prince  to-day ; but,  if  I 
should  fail,  pray  take  care  that  he  knows  how  things  stand  before 
we  meet  at  dinner,  lest  any  conversation  there  should  appear  to 
come  upon  him  by  surprise. 

“ Yours  ever, 

‘^Arlington  Street^  Sunday^  “C.  J.  F.” 

It  would  be  rash,  without  some  further  insight  into  the  circum- 
stances of  this  singular  interference,  to  enter  into  any  specu- 
lations with  respect  to  its  nature  or  motives,  or  to  pronounce  how 
far  Mr.  Sheridan  was  justified  in  being  the  instrument  of  it.  But 
on  the  share  of  Mr.  Fox  in  the  transaction,  such  suspension  of 


240  memoirs  of  the  life  of  thS 

opinion  is  unnecessary.  We  have  here  his  simple  and  honest 
words  before  us, — and  they  breathe  a spirit  of  sincerity  from 
which  even  Princes  might  take  a lesson  with  advantage. 

Mr.  Pitt  was  not  long  in  discovering  that  place  does  not  always 
imply  Power,  and  that  in  separating  himself  from  the  other  able 
men  of  the  day,  he  had  but  created  an  Opposition  as  much  too 
strong  for  the  Government,  as  the  Government  itself  was  too 
weak  for  the  country.  The  humiliating  resource  to  which  he 
was  driven,  in  trying,  as  a tonic,  the  reluctant  alliance  of  Lord 
Sidmouth, — the  abortiveness  of  his  efforts  to  avert  the  fall  of  his 
old  friend,  Lord  Melville,  and  the  fatality  of  ill  luck  that  still 
attended  his  exertions  against  France, — all  concurred  to  render 
this  reign  of  the  once  powerful  Minister  a series  of  humiliations, 
shifts,  and  disasters,  unlike  his  former  proud  period  in  every 
thing  but  ill  success.  The  powerful  Coalition  opposed  to  him 
already  had  a prospect  of  carrying  by  storm  the  post  which  he 
occupied,  when,  by  his  death,  it  was  surrendered,  without  parley, 
into  their  hands. 

The  Administration  that  succeeded,  under  the  auspices  of  Lord 
Grenville  and  Mr.  Fox,  bore  a resemblance  to  the  celebrated 
Brass  of  Corinth,  more,  perhaps,  in  the  variety  of  the  metals 
brought  together,  than  in  the  perfection  of  the  compound  that 
resulted  from  their  fusion."^  There  were  comprised  in  it,  indeed, 
not  only  the  two  great  parties  of  the  leading  chiefs,  but  those 
W higs  who  differed  with  them  both  under  the  Addington  Minis- 
try, and  the  Addingtons  that  differed  with  them  all  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  Catholic  claims.  With  this  last  anomalous  additiof 
to  the  miscellany  the  influence  of  Sheridan  S mainly  chargeable. 
Having,  for  some  time  past,  exerted  all  his  powers  of  manage- 
ment to  bring  about  a coalition  between  Carlton-House  and  Lord 
Sidmouth,  he  had  been  at  length  so  successful,  that  upon  the 
formation  of  the  present  Ministry,  it  was  the  express  desire  of 
the  Prince  that  Lord  Sidmouth  should  constitute  a part  of  it 
( 

♦ See  in  the  Annual  Register  of  1806,  some  able  remarks  upon  Coalitions  in  general,  rj 
well  as  a temperate  defence  of  this  Coalition  in  particular, — for  which  that  work  is,  I sus- 
pect, indebted  to  a hand  such  as  has  not  often,  since  the  time  of  Burke,  enriched  its  pagw 


lilGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  241 


To  the  same  unlucky  influence,  too,  is  to  be  traced  the  very 
questionable  measure,  (notwithstanding  the  great  learning  and 
ability  with  which  it  was  defended,)  of  introducing  the  Chief 
Justice,  Lord  Ellenborough,  into  the  Cabinet. 

As  to  Sheridan’s  own  share  in  the  arrangements,  it  was,  no 
doubt,  expected  by  him  that  he  should  now  be  included  among 
the  members  of  the  Cabinet ; and  it  is  probable  that  Mr.  Fox, 
at  the  head  of  a purely  Whig  ministry,  would  have  so  far  con- 
sidered the  services  of  his  ancient  ally,  and  the  popularity  still 
attached  to  his  name  through  the  country,  as  to  confer  upon  him 
this  mark  of  distinction  and  confidence.  But  there  w'ere  other 
interests  to  be  consulted  ; — and  the  undisguised  earnestness  with 
which  Sheridan  had  opposed  the  union  of  his  party  with  the 
Grenvilles,  left  him  but  little  supererogation  of  services  to  expect 
in  that  quarter.  Some  of  his  nearest  friends,  and  particularly 
Mrs.  Sheridan,  entreated,  as  I understand,  in  the  most  anxious 
manner,  that  he  would  not  accept  any  such  office  as  that  of  Trea- 
surer of  the  Navy,  for  the  responsibility  and  business  of  which 
they  knew  his  habits  so  wholly  unfitted  him, — but  that,  if  exclud- 
ed by  his  colleagues  from  the  distinction  of  a seat  in  the  Cabi- 
net, he  should  decline  all  office  whatsoever,  and  take  his  chance 
in  a friendly  independence  of  them.  But  the  time  was  now  past 
when  he  could  afford  to  adopt  this  policy, — the  emoluments  of  a 
place  were  too  necessary  to  him  to  be  rejected  ; — and,  in  accept- 
ing the  same  office  that  had  been  allotted  to  him  in  the  Regency- 
arrangements  of  1789,  he  must  have  felt,  with  no  small  degree 
of  mortification,  how  stationary  all  his  efforts  since  then  had  left 
him,  and  what  a blank  was  thus  made  of  all  his  services  in  the 
interval. 

The  period  of  this  Ministry,  connected  with  the  name  of  Mr. 
.f^ox,  though  brief,  and  in  some  respects,  far  from  laudable,  was 
distinguished  by  two  measures, — the  Plan  of  Limited  Service, 
and  the  Resolution  for  the  Abolition  of  the  Slave-Trade, — which 
will  long  be  remembered  to  the  honor  of  those  concerned  in 
them.  The  motion  of  Mr.  Fox  against  the  Slave-Trade  was  the 
last  he  ever  made  in  Parliament ; — and  the  same  sort  of  melan- 

VOL.  II.  11 


242  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THfi 

choly  admiration  that  Pliny  expresses,  in  speaking  of  a beautiful 
picture,  the  painter  of  which  had  died  in  finishing  it, — dolor 
manus^  diim  id  ageret^  abreptce,’^' — comes  naturally  over  bur  hearts 
in  thinking  of  the  last  glorious  work,  to  which  this  illustrious 
statesman,  in  dying,  set  his  hand. 

Though  it  is  not  true,  as  has  been  asserted,  that  Mr.  Fox  re- 
finked  to  see  Sheridan  in  his  last  illness,  it  is  but  too  certain  that 
those  appearances  of  alienation  or  reserve,  which  had  been  for 
some  time  past  observable  in  the  former,  continued  to  throw  a 
restraint  over  their  intercourse  with  each  other  to  the  last.  It  is 
a proof,  however,  of  the  absence  of  any  serious  grounds  for  this 
distrust,  that  Sheridan  was  the  person  selected  by  the  relatives 
of  Mr.  Fox  to  preside  over  and  direct  the  arrangements  of  the 
funeral,  and  that  he  put  the  last,  solemn  seal  to  their  long  inti- 
macy, by  following  his  friend,  as  mourner,  to  the  grave. 

The  honor  of  representing  the  city  of  Westminster  in  Parlia- 
ment had  been,  for  some  time,  one  of  the  dreams  of  Sheridan’s 
ambition.  It  was  suspected,  indeed, — 1 know  not  with  what  jus- 
tice,— that  in  advising  Mr.  Fox,  as  he  is  said  to  have  done,  about 
the  year  1800,  to  secede  from  public  life  altogether,  he  was  actu- 
ated by  a wish  to  succeed  him  in  the  representation  of  West- 
minster, and  had  even  already  set  on  foot  some  private  negotia- 
tions towards  that  object.  Whatever  grounds  there  may  have 
been  for  this  suspicion,  the  strong  wish  that  he  felt  on  the  subject 
had  long  been  sufficiently  known  to  his  colleagues ; and  on  the 
death  of  Mr.  Fox,  it  appeared,  not  only  to  himself,  but  the  pub- 
lic, that  he  was  the  person  naturally  pointed  out  as  most  fit  to 
be  his  parliamentary  successor.  It  was,  therefore,  with  no  slight 
degTee  of  disappointment  he  discc^vered,  that  the  ascendancy  of 
Aristocratic  influence  was,  as  usual,  to  prevail,  and  that  the  young 
son  of  the  Duke  of  Northumberland  would  be  supported  by  the 
Government  in  preference  to  him.  It  is  but  right,  however,  in 
justice  to  the  Ministry,  to  state,  that  the  neglect  with  which  they 
appear  to  have  treated  him  on  this  occasion, — particularly  in  nol 
apprising  him  of  their  decision  in  favor  of  Lord  Percy,  suffi 
ciently  early  to  save  him  from  the  hrmiliaticn  of  a fruitless  at 


RIGHT  HOH.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  243 


tempt, — is  proved,  by  the  following  letters,  to  have  originated  in 
a double  misapprehension,  by  which,  while  Sheridan,  on  one  side, 
was  led  to  believe  that  the  Ministers  would  favor  his  pretensions, 
the  Ministers,  on  the  other,  were  induced  to  think  that  he  had 
given  up  all  intentions  of  being  a candidate. 

The  first  letter  is  addressed  to  the  gentleman,  (one  of  Sheri- 
dan’s intimate  friends,)  who  seems  to  have  been,  unintentionally, 
the  cause  of  the  mistake  on  both  sides. 

“ Dear , Somerset-Place,  September  14. 

“ You  must  have  seen  by  my  manner,  yesterday,-  how  much  I 
w'as  surprised  and  hurt  at  learning,  for  the  first  time,  that  Lord 
Grenville  had,  many  days  previous  to  Mr.  Fox’s  death,  decided 
to  support  Lord  Percy  on  the  expected  vacancy  for  Westmins- 
ter, and  that  you  had  since  been  the  active  agent  in  the  canvass 
actually  commenced.  I do  not  like  to  think  I have  grounds  to  com- 
plain or  change  my  opinion  of  any  friend,  without  being  very 
explicit,  and  opening  my  mind,  without  reserve,  on  such  a sub- 
ject. I must  frankly  declare,  that  I think  you  have  brought 
yourself  and  me  into  a very  unpleasant  dilemma.  You  seemed, 
to  say,  last  night,  that  you  had  not  been  apprised  of  my  inten- 
tion to  offer  for  Westminster  on  the  apprehended  vacancy.  1 
am  confident  you  have  acted  under  that  impression  ; but  I must 
impute  to  you  either  great  inattention  to  what  fell  from  me  in 
our  last  conversation  on  the  subject,  or  great  inaccuracy  of  re- 
collection ; for  I solemnly  protest  I considered  you  as  the  indi 
vidual  most  distinctly  apprised,  that  at  this  moment  to  succeed 
that  great  man  and  revered  friend  in  Westminster,  should  the  fa 
tal  event  take  place,  would  be  the  highest  object  of  my  ambi 
lion  ; for,  in  that  conversation  I thanked  you  expressly  for  in 
forming  me  that  Lord  Grenville  had  said  to  yourself,  upon  Lord 
Percy  being  suggested  to  him,  that  he.  Lord  Grenville,  ^ would, 
decide  on  nothing  until  Mr.  Sheridan  had  been  spoken  to,  and  his 
intentions  known J or  words  precisely  to  that  effect.  I expressed 
my  grateful  sense  of  Lord  Grenville’s  attention,  and  said,  that  it 


244  MEMOIRS  OF  l^HE  LIFE  OF  THE 

would  confirm  me  m my  intention  of  making  no  application^ 
however  hopeless  myself  respecting  Mr.  Fox,  while  life  remained 
with  him, — and  these  words  of  Lord  Grenville  you  allowed  last 
night  to  have  been  so  stated  to  me,  though  not  as  a message 
from  His  I.ordship.  Since  that  time  1 think  we  have  not  hap- 
pened to  meet ; at  least  sure  1 am,  we  have  had  no  conversation 
on  the  subject.  Having  the  highest  opinion  of  Lord  Grenville’s 
honor  and  sincerity,  I must  be  confident  that  he  must  have  had 
another  impression  made  on  his  mind  respecting  my  wishes  be- 
fore I was  entirely  passed  by.  I do  not  mean  to  say  that  my 
offering  myself  was  immediately  to  entitle  me  to  the  support  of 
Government,  but  I do  mean  to  say,  that  my  pretensions  were 
entitled  to  consideration  before  that  support  was  offered  to  ano- 
ther without  the  slightest  notice  taken  of  me, — the  more  espe- 
cially as  the  words  of  Lord  Grenville,  reported  by  you  to  me, 
had  been  stated  by  me  to  many  friends  as  my  reliance  and  jus- 
tification in  not  following  their  advice  by  making  a direct  appli- 
cation to  Government.  I pledged  myself  to  them  that  Lord 
Grenville  would  not  promise  the  support  of  Government  till  my 
intentions  had  been  asked,  and  I quoted  your  authority  for  doing 
so : I never  heard  a syllable  of  that  support  being  promised  to 
Lord  Percy  until  from  you  on  the  evening  of  Mr.  Fox’s  death. 
Did  I ever  authorize  you  to  inform  Lord  Grenville  that  I had 
abandoned  the  idea  of  offering  myself  ? These  are  points  which 
it  is  necessary,  for  the  honor  of  all  parties,  should  be  amicably 
explained.  I therefore  propose,  as  the  shortest  way  of  effecting 
it,— v/ishing  you  not  to  consider  this  letter  as  in  any  degree  con- 
fidential,— that  my  statements  in  this  letter  may  be  submitted  to 
any  two  common  friends,  or  to  the  Lord  Chancellor  alone,  and 
let  it  be  ascertained  where  the  error  has  arisen,  for  error  is  all  I 
complain  of ; and,  with  regard  to  Lord  Grenville,  I desire  dis- 
tinctly to  say,  that  I feel  myself  indebted  for  the  fairness  and 
kindness  of  his  intentions  towards  me.  My  disappointment  of 
the  protection  of  Government  may  be  a sufficient  excuse  to  the 
friends  I am  pledged  to,  should  I retire ; but  I must  have  it 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  245 


understood  whether  or  not  1 deceived  them,  when  I led  them  to 
expect  that  I should  have  that  support. 

“ 1 hope  to  remain  ever  yours  sincerely, 

“ R.  B.  Sheridan. 

The  sooner  the  reference  I propose  the  better.” 

The  second  letter,  which  is  still  further  explanatory  of  the 
misconception,  was  addressed  by  Sheridan  to  Lord  Grenville : 

“ My  dear  Lord, 

“ Since  I had  the  honor  of  Your  Lordship’s  letter,  I have  re- 
ceived one  from  Mr. , in  which,  I am  sorry  to  observe  he 

is  silent  as  to  my  offer  of  meeting,  in  the  presence  of  a third  per- 
son, in  order  to  ascertain  whether  he  did  or  not  so  report  a con- 
versation with  Your  Lordship  as  to  impress  on  my  mind  a belief 
that  my  pretensions  would  be  considered,  before  the  support  of 
Government  should  be  pledged  elsewhere.  Instead  of  this,  he 
not  only  does  not  admit  the  ^precise  words  quoted  by  me,  but  does 
not  state  what  he  allows  he  did  say.  If  he  denies  that  he  ever 
gave  me  reason  to  adopt  the  belief  I have  stated,  be  it  so ; but 
the  only  stipulation  I have  made  is  that  we  should  come  to  an 
explicit  understanding  on  this  subject, — not  with  a view  to  quot- 
ing words  or  repeating  names,  but  that  the  misapprehension, 
whatever  it  was,  may  be  so  admitted  as  not  to  leave  me  under 
an  unmerited  degree  of  discredit  and  disgrace.  Mr. cer- 

tainly never  encouraged  me  to  stand  for  Westminster,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  advised  me  to  support  Lord  Percy,  which  made  me 
the  more  mark  at  the  time  the  fairness  with  which  I thought  he 
apprised  me  of  the  preference  my  pretensions  were  likely  to  ro 
ceive  in  Your  Lordship’s  consideration. 

“ Unquestionably  Your  Lordship’s  recollection  of  what  passed 

betw^een  Mr.  and  yourself  must  be  just ; and  were  it  no 

more  than  what  you  said  on  the  same  subject  to  Lord  Howick, 
I consider  it  as  a mark  of  attention ; but  w'hat  has  astonished  me 

is,  that  Mr. should  ever  have  informed  Your  Lordship, 

p he  admits  he  did,  that  I had  no  intention  of  offering  myself 


246 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


This  naturally  must  have  put  from  your  mind  whatever  degree 
of  disposition  was  there  to  have  made  a preferable  application  to 
me ; and  Lord  Howick’s  answer  to  your  question,  on  which  I 
have  ventured  to  make  a friendly  remonstrance,  must  have  con- 
firmed Mr. ’s  report.  But  allow  me  to  suppose  that  I had 

myself  seen  Your  Lordship,  and  that  you  had  explicitly  promised 
me  the  support  of  Government,  and  had  afterwards  sent  for  me 
and  informed  me  that  it  was  at  all  an  object  to  you  that  I should 
give  way  to  Lord  Percy,  I assure  you,  with  the  utmost  sincerity, 
that  I should  cheerfully  have  withdrawn  myself,  and  applied  eve^ 
ry  interest  I possessed  as  your  Lordship  should  have  directed. 

All  I request  is,  that  what  passed  between  me  and  Mr. 

may  take  an  intelligible  shape  before  any  common  friend,  or  be^ 
fore  Your  Lordship.  This  I conceive  to  be  a preliminary  due  to 
my  own  honor,  and  what  he  ought  not  to  evade.” 

The  Address  which  he  delivered,  at  the  Crown  and  Anchor 
Tavern,  in  declining  the  offer  of  support  which  many  of  the  elec- 
tors still  pressed  upon  him,  contains  some  of  those  touches  of 
personal  feeling  which  a biographer  is  more  particularly  bound 
to  preserve.  In  speaking  of  Mr.  Fox,  he  said, — 

It  is  true  there  have  been  occasions  upon  which  I have  differed  with  him 
— painful  recollections  of  the  most  painful  moments  of  my  political  life! 
Nor  were  there  wanting  those  who  endeavored  to  represent  these  differ- 
ences as  a departure  from  the  homage  which  his  superior  mind,  though  un- 
claimed by  him,  was  entitled  to,  and  from  the  allegiance  of  friendship 
which  our  hearts  all  swore  to  him.  But  never  was  the  genuine  and  con- 
fiding texture  of  his  soul  more  manifest  than  on  such  occasions  ; he  knew 
that  nothing  on  earth  could  detach  me  from  him  ; and  he  resented  insinua- 
tions against  the  sincerity  and  integrity  of  a friend,  which  he  would  not 
have  noticed  had  they  been  pointed  against  himself.  With  such  a man  to 
have  battled  in  the  cause  of  genuine  liberty, — with  such  a man  to  have 
struggled  against  the  inroads  of  oppression  and  corruption, — with  such  an 
example  before  me,  to  have  to  boast  that  I never  in  my  life  gave  one  vote 
in  Parliament  that  was  not  on  the  side  of  freedom,  is  the  congratulation 
that  attends  the  retrospect  of  my  public  life.  His  friendship  was  the  pride 
and  honor  of  my  days.  I never,  for  one  moment,  regretted  to  share  with 
him  the  difficulties,  the  calunuiies,  and  sometimes  even  the  dangers,  that 


lUGHT  HON.  EICHAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  247 


attended  an  honorable  course.  And  now,  reviewing  my  past  political  life, 
were  the  option  possible  that  I should  retread  the  path,  I solemnly  and  de- 
liberately declare  that  I would  prefer  to  pursue  the  same  course  ; to  bear 
up  inder  the  same  pressure  ; to  abide  by  the  same  principles  ; and  remain 
by  his  side  an  exile  from  power,  distinction,  and  emolument,  rather  than  be 
at  this  moment  a splendid  example  of  successful  servility  or  prosperous 
apostacy,  though  clothed  vnth  power,  honor,  titles,  gorged  with  sinecures, 
and  lord  of  hoards  obtained  from  the  plunder  of  the  people.’’ 

At  the  conckision  of  his  Address  he  thus  alludes,  with  evi- 
dently a deep  feeling  of  discontent,  to  the  circumstances  that  had 
obliged  him  to  decline  the  honor  now  proposed  to  him  : — 

“ Illiberal  warnings  have  been  held  out,  most  unauthoritatively  I know, 
that  by  persevering  in  the  present  contest  I may  risk  my  official  situation, 
and  if  I retire,  I am  aware,  that  minds,  as  coarse  and  illiberal,  may  assign 
the  dread  of  that  as  my  motive.  To  such  insinuations  I shall  scorn  to  make 
any  other  reply  than  a reference  to  the  whole  of  my  past  political  career. 
I consider  it  as  no  boast  to  say,  that  any  one  who  has  struggled  through 
such  a portion  of  life  as  I have,  without  obtaining  an  office,  is  not  likely  to 
abandon  his  principles  to  retain  one  when  acquired.  If  riches  do  not  give 
independence,  the  next  best  thing  to  being  very  rich  is  to  have  been  used 
to  be  very  poor.  But  independence  is  not  allied  to  wealth,  to  birth,  to 
rank,  to  power,  to  titles,  or  to  honor.  Independence  is  in  the  mind  of  a 
man,  or  it  is  no  where.  On  this  ground  were  I to  decline  the  contest,  I 
should  scorn  the  im.putation  that  should  bring  the  purity  of  my  purpose 
into  doubt.  No  Minister  can  expect  to  find  in  me  a servile  vassal.  No  Mi- 
nister can  expect  from  me  the  abandonment  of  any  principle  I have  avowed, 
or  any  pledge  I have  given.  I know  not  that  I have  hitherto  shrunk 
in  place  from  opinions  I have  maintained  while  in  oppposition.  Did  there 
exist  a Minister  of  a different  cast  from  any  I know  in  being,  were  he  to 
attempt  to  exact  from  me  a different  conduct,  my  office  should  be  at  his 
service  to-morrow.  Such  a Minister  might  strip  me  of  my  situation,  in  some 
respects  of  considerable  emolument,  but  he  could  not  strip  me  of  the  proud 
conviction  that  I was  right ; he  could  not  strip  me  of  my  own  self-esteem  ; 
he  could  not  strip  me,  I think,  of  some^ortion  of  the  confidence  and  good 
opinion  of  the  people.  But  I am  noticing  the  calumnious  threat  I allude 
to  more  than  it  deserves.  There  can  be  no  peril,  I venture  to  assert,  un- 
der the  present  Government,  in  the  fi'ee  exercise  of  discretion,  such  as  be- 
longs to  the  present  question.  I therefore  disclaim  the  merit  of  putting 
anything  to  hazard.  If  I have  missed  the  opportunity  of  obtaining  all  the 
support  I might,  perhaps,  have  had  on  the  present  occasion,  from  a ver^ 


248 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


scrupulous  delicacy,  which  I think  became  and  was  incumbent  upon  me, 
but  which  I by  no  means  conceive  to  have  been  a fit  rule  for  others,  I can 
not  repent  it.  While  the  slightest  aspiration  of  breath  passed  those  lips, 
now  closed  for  ever, — while  one  drop  of  life’s  blood  beat  in  that  heart,  now 
cold  for  ever, — I could  not,  I ought  not,  to  have  acted  otherwise  than  I 
did. — I now  come  with  a very  embarrassed  feeling  to  that  declaration  which 
I yet  think  you  must  have  expected  from  me,  but  which  I make  with  re- 
luctance, because,  from  the  marked  approbation  I have  experienced  from 
you,  I fear  that  with  reluctance  you  will  receive  it. — I feel  myself  under 
the  necessity  of  retiring  from  this  contest.” 

About  three  weeks  after,  ensued  the  Dissolution  of  Parliament, 
• — a^  measure  attended  with  considerable  unpopularity  to  the 
Ministry,  and  originating  as  much  in  the  enmity  of  one  of  its 
members  to  Lord  Sidmouth,  as  the  introduction  of  that  noble 
Lord  among  them,  at  all,  was  owing  to  the  friendship  of  another. 
In  consequence  of  this  event,  Lord  Percy  having  declined  offering 
himself  again,  Mr.  Sheridan  became  a candidate  for  Westminster, 
and  after  a most  riotous  contest  with  a demagogue  of  the  mo- 
ment, named  Pauli,  was,  together  with  Sir  Samuel  Hood,  declared 
duly  elected. 

The  moderate  measure  in  favor  of  the  Roman  Catholics,  which 
the  Ministry  now  thought  it  due  to  the  expectations  of  that  body 
to  bring  forward,  was,  as  might  be  expected,  taken  advantage  of 
by  the  King  to  rid  himself  of  their  counsels,  and  produced  one 
of  those  bursts  of  bigotry,  by  which  the  people  of  England  have 
so  often  disgraced  themselves.  It  is  sometimes  a misfortune  to 
men  of  wit,  that  they  put  their  opinions  in  a form  to  be  remem- 
bered. We  might,  perhaps,  have  been  ignorant  of  the  keen,  but 
worldly  view  which  Mr.  Sheridan,  on  this  occasion,  took  of  the 
hardihood  of  his  colleagues,  if  he  had  not  himself  expressed  it 
in  a form  so  portable  to  the  memory.  ‘‘  He  had  often,’^  he  said, 
heard  of  people  knocking  out  their  brains  against  a wall,  but 
never  before  knew  of  any  one  building  a wall  expressly  for  the 
purpose.” 

It  must  be  owned,  indeed,  that,  though  far  too  sagacious  and 
liberal  not  to  be  deeply  impressed  with  the  justice  of  the  claims 
advanced  b^’-  the  Catholics,  he  was  not  altogether  disposed  to  go 


EIGHT  HON.  EICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  249 


those  generous  lengths  in  their  favor,  of  which  Mr.  Fox  and  a few 
others  of  their  less  calculating  friends  were  capable.  It  was  his 
avowed  opinion,  that,  though  the  measure,  whenever  brought  for- 
ward, should  be  supported  and  enforced  by  the  whole  weight  of 
the  party,  they  ought  never  so  far  to  identify  or  encumber  them 
selves  with  it,  as  to  make  its  adoption  a sine-qua-non  of  their 
acceptance  or  retention  of  office.  His  support,  too,  of  the  Min- 
istry of  Mr.  Addington,  which  was  as  virtually  pledged  against  the 
Catholics  as  that  which  now  succeeded  to  power,  sufficiently 
shows  the  secondary  station  that  this  great  question  occupied  in 
his  mind ; nor  can  such  a deviation  from  the  usual  tone  of  his  po- 
litical feelings  be  otherwise  accounted  for,  than  by  supposing 
that  he  was  aware  of  the  existence  of  a strong  indisposition  to  the 
measure  in  that  quarter,  by  whose  views  and  wishes  his  public 
conduct  was,  in  most  cases,  regulated. 

On  the  general  question,  however,  of  the  misgovernment  of 
Ireland,  and  the  disabilities  of  the  Catholics,  as  forming  its  most 
prominent  feature,  his  zeal  was  always  forthcoming  and  ardent, 
— and  never  more  so  than  during  the  present  Session,  when,  on 
the  question  of  the  Irish  Arms  Bill,  and  his  owm  motion  upon 
the  State  of  Ireland,  he  distinguished  himself  by  an  animation 
and  vigor  worthy  of  the  best  period  of  his  eloquence. 

Mr.  Grattan,  in  supporting  the  coercive  measures  now  adopted 
against  his  country,  had  shown  himself,  for  once,  alarmed  into  a 
concurrence  with  the  wretched  system  of  governing  by  Insurrec- 
tion Acts,  and,  for  once,  lent  his  sanction  to  the  principle  upon 
which  all  such  measures  are  founded,  namely,  that  of  enabling 
Power  to  defend  itself  against  the  consequences  of  its  own  ty- 
ranny and  injustice.  In  alluding  to  some  expressions  used  by 
this  great  man,  Sheridan  said  : — 

He  now  happened  to  recollect  what  was  said  by  a Right  Honorable 
Gentleman,  to  whose  opinions  they  all  deferred,  (Mr.  Grattan,)  that  not-"~ 
withstanding  he  voted  for  the  present  measure,  with  all  its  defects,  rather 
than  lose  it  althgether,  yet  that  gentleman  said,  that  he  hoped  to  secure 
the  revisionary  interest  of  the  Constitution  to  Ireland.  But  when  he  saw 
tliat  the  Constitution  was  suspended  from  the  year  1796  to  the  present  pe- 
ypbe  II,  ir^ 


250 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


riod,  and  that  it  was  now  likely  to  be  continued  for  three  years  longer,  the 
danger  was  that  we  might  lose  the  interest  altogether  when  we  were 
mortgaged  for  such  a length  of  time,  at  last  a foreclosure  might  take  place/*^ 

The  following  is  an  instance  of  that  happy  power  of  applying 
old  stories,  for  which  Mr.  Windham,  no  less  than  Sheridan,  was 
remarkable,  and  which,  by  promoting  anecdote  into  the  service 
of  argument  and  wit,  ennobles  it,  when  trivial,  and  gives  new 
youth  to  it,  when  old. 

When  they  and  others  complain  of  the  discontents  of  the  Irish,  they 
never  appear  to  consider  the  cause.  When  they  express  their  surprise  that 
the  Irish  are  not  contented,  while  according  to  their  observation,  that  peo- 
ple have  so  much  reason  to  be  happy,  they  betray  a total  ignorance  of  their 
actual  circumstances.  The  fact  is,  that  the  tyranny  practised  upon  the  Irish 
has  been  throughout  unremitting.  There  has  been  no  change  but  in  the 
manner  of  inflicting  it.  They  have  had  nothing  but  variety  in  oppression, 
extending  to  all  ranks  and  degrees  of  a certain  description  of  the  people. 
If  you  would  know  what  this  varied  oppression  consisted  in,  I refer  you  to 
the  Penal  Statutes  you  have  repealed,  and  to  some  of  those  which  still  ex- 
ist. There  you  will  see  the  high  and  the  low  equally  subjected  to  the  lash 
of  persecution ; and  yet  still  some  persons  affect  to  be  astonished  at  the 
discontents  of  the  Irish.  But  with  all  my  reluctance  to  introduce  any  thing 
ludicrous  upon  so  serious  an  occasion,  I cannot  help  referring  to  a liltle 
story  which  those  very  astonished  persons  call  to  my  mind.  It  was  with  re- 
spect to  an  Irish  drummer,  who  was  employed  to  inflict  punishment  upon  a 
soldier.  When  the  boy  struck  high,  the  poor  soldier  exclaimed,  ‘ Lower, 
bless  you,’  with  which  the  boy  complied.  But  soon  after  the  soldier  ex- 
claimed, ^ Higher  if  you  please,’  But  again  he  called  out,  ‘A  little  lower  ;’ 
upon  which  the  accommodating  boy  addressed  him — ‘ Now,  upon  my  con- 
science, I see  you  are  a discontented  man  ; for,  strike  where  I may,  there’s 
no  pleasing  you.’  Now  your  complaint  of  the  discontents  of  the  Irish  ap- 
pears to  me  quite  as  rational,  while  you  continue  to  strike,  only  altering  the 
place  of  attack.” 

Upon  this  speech,  which  may  be  considered  as  the  bouquet^  or 
last  parting  blaze  of  his  eloquence,  he  appears  to  have  bestowed 
considerable  care  and  thought.  The  concluding  sentences  of  the 
following  passage,  though  in  his  very  worst  taste,  were  as  anx- 
iously labored  by  hiin,  and  put  through  as  many  rehearsals  oil 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN. 


251 


paper,  as  any  of  the  most  highly  finished  witticisms  in  The  School 
for  Scandal. 

“ I cannot  think  patiently  of  such  petty  squabbles,  while  Bonaparte  is 
grasping  the  nations ; while  he  is  surrounding  France,  not  with  that  iron 
frontier,  for  which  the  wish  and  childish  ambition  of  Louis  XIV.  was  so  - 
eager,  but  with  kingdoms  of  his  own  creation  ; securing  the  gratitude  of 
higher  minds  as  the  hostage,  and  the  fears  of  others  as  pledges  for  his 
safety.  His  are  no  ordinary  fortifications.  His  martello  towers  are  thrones  ; 
sceptres  tipt  with  crowns  are  the  palisadoes  of  his  entrenchments,  and  Kings 
are  his  sentinels.^’ 

The  Reporter  here,  by  “ tipping  ” the  sceptres  “ with  crowns,” 
has  improved,  rather  unnecessarily,  upon  the  finery  of  the  origi- 
nal. The  following  are  specimens  of  the  various  trials  of  this 
passage  which  I find  scribbled  over  detached  scraps  of  paper : — 

Contrast  the  different  attitudes  and  occupations  of  the  two  govern- 
ments : — B.  eighteen  months  from  his  capital, — head-quarters  in  the  vil- 
lages,— neither  Berlin  nor  Warsaw, — dethroning  and  creating  thrones, — 
the  works  he  raises  are  monarchies, — sceptres  his  palisadoes,  thrones  his 
martello  towers.” 

“ Commissioning  kings, — erecting  thrones, — martello  towers, — Camba- 
ceres  count  noses, — Austrians,  fine  dressed,  like  Pompey^s  troops.” 

“ B.  fences  with  sceptres, — his  martello  towers  are  thrones, — he  alone  is 
France.” 

Another  Dissolution  of  Parliament  having  taken  place  this 
year,  he  again  became  a candidate  for  the  city  of  Westminster. 
But,  after  a violent  contest,  during  which  he  stood  the  coarse 
abuse  of  the  mob  with  the  utmost  good  humor  and  playfulness, 
the  election  ended  in  favor  of  Sir  Francis  Burdett  and  Lord 
Cochrane,  and  Sheridan  was  returned,  with  his  friend  Mr. 
Michael  Angelo  Taylor,  for  the  borough  of  Ilchester. 

In  the  autumn  of  1807  he  had  conceived  some  idea  of  leasing 
the  property  of  Drury-Lane  Theatre,  and  with  that  view  had  set 
on  foot,  through  Mr.  Michael  Kelly,  who  was  then  in  Ireland,  a 
negotiation  with  Mr.  Frederick  Jones,  the  proprietor  of  the 
Dublin  Theatre.  In  explaining  his  object  to  Mr.  Kelly,  in  a let- 
ter dated  August  30,  1807  he  describes  it  as  “a  plan  by  which 


252 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


the  property  may  be  leased  to  those  who  have  the  skill  and  the 
industry  to  manage  it  as  it  should  be  for  their  own  advantage, 
upon  terms  which  would  render  any  risk  to  them  almost  impos- 
sible;— the  profit  to  them,  (he  adds,)  would  probably  be  be- 
.yond  what  I could  now  venture  to  state,  and  yet  upon  terms 
w^hich  would  be  much  better  for  the  real  proprietors  than  any 
thing  that  can  arise  from  the  careless  and  ignorant  manner  in 
which  the  undertaking  is  now  misconducted  by  those  who,  my 
son  excepted,  have  no  interest  in  its  success,  and  who  lose 
nothing  by  its  failure.” 

The  negotiation  with  Mr.  Jones  was  continued  into  the  follow- 
ing year ; and,  according  to  a draft  of  agreement,  which  this 
gentleman  has  been  kind  enough  to  show  me,  in  Sheridan’s  hand- 
writing, it  was  intended  that  Mr.  Jones  should,  on  becoming 
proprietor  of  one  quarter-share  of  the  property,  “ undertake  the 
management  of  the  Theatre  in  conjunction  with  Mr.  T.  Sheridan, 
and  be  entitled  to  the  same  remuneration,  namely,  1000/.  per 
annum  certain  income,  and  a certain  per  centage  on  the  net  pro- 
fits arising  from  the  office-receipts,  as  should  be  agreed  upon,” 
&c.  &c. 

The  following  memorandum  of  a bet  connected  with  this  trans- 
action, is  of  somewhat  a higher  class  of  wagers  than  the  One 
Tun  Tavern  has  often  had  the  honor  of  recording  among  its  ar-. 
chives  : — 

One  Tun,  St.  Jameses  3farlcet,  May  26,  1808. 

In  the  presence  of  Messrs.  G.  Ponsonby,  R.  Power,  and  Mr.  Becher,* 
Mr.  Jones  bets  Mr.  Sheridan  five  hundred  guineas  that  he,  Mr.  Sheridan, 
does  not  write,  and  produce  under  his  name,  a play  of  five  acts,  or  a first 
piece  of  three,  within  the  term  of  three  years  from  the  15 th  of  September 
next. — It  is  distinctly  to  be  understood  that  this  bet  is  not  valid  unless  Mr. 

* It  is  not  without  a deep  feeling  of  melancholy  that  I transcribe  this  paper.  Of 
three  of  my  most  valued  friends,  whose  names  are  signed  to  it, — Becher,  Ponsonby,  and 
Power, — the  last  has,  within  a few  short  months,  been  snatched  away,  leaving  behind 
him  the  recollection  of  as  many  gentle  and  manly  virtues  as  ever  roncui  red  to  give 
sweetness  apd  strength  to  character 


JltGHT  HOIST.  RiCHAKD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  263 

Jones  becomes  a partner  in  Drury-Lane  Theatre  before  the  commencement 
of  the  ensuing  season. 


The  grand  movement  of  Spain,  in  the  year  1808,  which  led  to 
consequences  so  important  to  the  rest  of  Europe,  though  it  has 
left  herself  as  enslaved  and  priest-ridden  as  ever,  was  hailed  by 
Sheridan  with  all  that  prompt  and  well-timed  ardor,  with  which 
he  alone,  of  all  his  party,  knew  how  to  meet  such  great  occa- 
Sons.  Had  his  political  associates  but  learned  from  his  exam- 
ple thus  to  place  themselves  in  advance  of  the  procession  of 
events,  they  would  not  have  had  the  triumphal  wheels  pass  by 
them  and  over  them  so  frequently.  Immediately  on  the  arrival 
of  the  Deputies  from  Spain,  he  called  the  attention  of  the  House 
to  the  affairs  of  that  country ; and  his  speech  on  the  subject, 
though  short  and  unstudied,  had  not  only  the  merit  of  falling  in 
with  the  popular  feeling  at  the  moment,  but,  from  the  views  which 
it  pointed  out  through  the  bright  opening  now  made  by  Spain, 
was  every  way  calculated  to  be  useful  both  at  home  and  abroad. 

“ Let  Spain,”  be  said,  “ see,  that  we  were  not  inclined  to  stint  the  ser- 
vices we  had  it  in  our  power  to  render  her  ; that  we  were  not  actuated  by 
the  desire  of  any  petty  advantage  to  ourselves  ; but  that  our  exertions 
were  to  be  solely  directed  to  the  attainment  of  the  grand  and  general  ob- 
ject, the  emancipation  of  the  world.  If  the  flame  were  once  fairly  caught, 
our  success  was  certain.  France  would  then  find,  that  she  had  hitherto 
been  contending  only  against  principalities,  powers,  and  authorities,  but 
that  she  had  now  to  contend  against  a people.” 

The  death  of  Lord  Lake  this  year  removed  those  difficulties 
which  had,  ever  since  the  appointment  of  Sheridan  to  the  Re- 
ceivership of  the  Duchy  of  Cornwall,  stood  in  the  way  of  his 
reaping  the  full  advantages  of  that  office.  Previously  to  the 
departure  of  General  Lake  for  India,  the  Prince  had  granted  to 


“ Richard  Power, 

“ George  Fonsonby, 
W.  W.  Becher. 


R.  B.  Shekidan, 
Fred.  Edw.  Jones. 


254 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


him  the  reversion  of  this  situation  which  was  then  filled  by  Lord 
Elliot.  It  was  afterwards,  however,  discovered  that,  according 
to  the  terms  of  the  Grant,  the  place  could  not  be  legally  held  or 
deputed  by  any  one  who  had  not  been  actually  sworn  into  it  be- 
fore the  Prince’s  Council.  On  the  death  of  Lord  Elliot,  there- 
fore, His  Eoyal  Highness  thought  himself  authorized,  as  we  have 
seen,  in  conferring  the  appointment  upon  Mr.  Sheridan.  This 
step,  however,  was  considered  by  the  friends  of  General  Lake 
as  not  only  a breach  of  promise,  but  a violation  of  right ; and  it 
would  seem  from  one  of  the  documents  which  I am  about  to  give, 
that  measures  were  even  in  train  for  enforcing  the  claim  by  law. 

The  first  is  a Letter  on  the  subject  from  Sheridan  to  Colonel 
M‘Mahon : — 

“ My  dear  M‘Mahon,  Thursday  evening, 

“ I have  thoroughly  considered  and  reconsidered  the  subject 
we  talked  upon  to-day.  Nothing  on  earth  shall  make  me  risk 
the  possibility  of  the  Prince’s  goodness  to  me  furnishing  an  op- 
portunity for  a single  scurrilous  fool’s  presuming  to  hint  even 
that  he  had,  in  the  slightest  manner,  departed  Trom  the  slightest 
engagement.  The  Prince’s  right,  in  point  of  law  and  justice,  on 
the  present  occasion  to  recall  the  appointment  given,  I hold  to  be 
incontestable ; but,  believe  me,  I am  right  in  the  proposition  I 
took  the  liberty  of  submitting  to  His  Royal  Highness,  and 
which  (so  far  is  he  from  wishing  to  hurt  General  Lake,)  he  gra- 
ciously approved.  But  understand  me, — my  meaning  is  to  give 
up  the  emoluments  of  the  situation  to  General  Lake,  holding  the 
situation  at  the  Prince’s  pleasure,  and  abiding  by  an  arbitrated 
estimate  of  General  Lake’s  claim,  supposing  His  Royal  High- 
ness had  appointed  him  ; in  other  words,  to  value  his  interest  in 
the  appointment  as  if  he  had  it,  and  to  pay  him  for  it  or  resign 
to  him. 

“ With  the  Prince’s  permission  I should  be  glad  to  meet  Mr. 
Warwick  Lake,  and  I am  confident  that  no  two  men  of  common 
sense  and  good  intentions  can  fail,  in  ten  minutes,  to  arrange  it 
so  as  to  meet  the  Prince’s  wishes,  and  not  to  leave  the  shadow 


eight  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  255 

of  a pretence  for  envious  malignity  to  whisper  a word  against  his 
decision. 

Yours  ever, 

“ E.  B.  Sheridan. 

“ I wTTte  in  great  haste — going  to  A .” 

The  other  Paper  that  I shall  give,  as  throwing  light  on  the 
transaction,  is  a rough  and  unfinished  sketch  by  Sheridan  of  a 
statement  intended  to  be  transmitted  to  General  Lake,  containing 
the  particulars  of  both  Grants,  and  the  documents  connected  with 
them : — 

“ Dear  General, 

“ I am  commanded  by  the  Prince  of  Wales  to  transmit  to 
you  a correct  Statement  of  a transaction  in  w’hich  your  name  is 
so  much  implicated,  and  in  which  his  feelings  have  been  greatly 
wounded  from  a quarter,  I am  commanded  to  say,  whence  he 
did  not  expect  such  conduct. 

“ As  I am  directed  to  communicate  the  particulars  in  the  most 
authentic  form,  you  will,  I am  sure,  excuse  on  this  occasion  my 
not  adopting  the  mode  of  a familiar  letter. 

“ Authentic  Statement  respecting  the  Appointment  by  His  Eoyal 
Highness  the  Prince  of  Wales  to  the  Receivership  of  the  Duchy 
of  Cornwall,  in  the  Year  1804,  to  be  transmitted  by  His  Royal 
Highness’s  Command,  to  Lieutenant-General  Lake,  Command- 
er-in-Chief  of  the  Forces  in  India. 

“ The  circumstances  attending  the  original  reversionary  Grant 
to  General  Lake  are  stated  in  the  brief  for  Counsel  on  this  occa- 
sion by  Mr.  Bignell,  the  Prince’s  solicitor,  to  be  as  follow^ : 
(No.  I.)  It  was  afterwards  understood  by  the  Prince  that  the 
service  he  had  wished  to  render  General  Lake,  by  this  Grant, 
had  been  defeated  by  the  terms  of  it ; and  so  clearly  had  it  been 
shown  that  there  were  essential  duties  attached  to  the  office, 
which  no  Deputy  was  competent  to  execute,  and  that  a Deputy, 
even  for  the  collection  of  the  rents,  could  not  be  appointed  but 
by  a principal  actually  in  possession  of  the  office,  (by  having 


25& 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THSl 


been  sworn  into  it  before  his  Council,)  that  upon  General  Lake’s 
appointment  to  the  command  in  India,  the  Prince  could  have  no 
conception  that  General  Lake  could  have  left  the  country  under 
an  impression  or  expectation  that  the  Prince  would  appoint  him, 
in  case  of  a vacancy,  to  the  place  in  question.  Accordingly,  His 
Royal  Highness,  on  the  very  day  he  heard  of  the  death  of  Lord 
Elliot,  unsolicited,  and  of  his  own  gracious  suggestion,  appointed 
Mr.  Sheridan.  Mr.  Sheridan  returned,  the  next  day,  in  a letter 
to  the  Prince,  such  an  answer  and  acknowledgment  as  might  be 
expected  from  him ; and,  accordingly,  directions  were  given  to 
make  out  his  patent.  On  the  ensuing His  Royal  High- 

ness was  greatly  surprised  at  receiving  the  following  letter  from 
Mr.  Warwick  Lake.  (No.  II.) 

“ His  Royal  Highness  immediately  directed  Mr.  Sheridan  to 
see  Mr.  W.  Lake,  and  to  state  his  situation,  and  how  the  office 
was  circumstanced ; and  for  further  distinctness  to  make  a minute 
in  writing  * * * 

Such  were  the  circumstances  that  had,  at  first,  embarrassed  his 
enjoyment  of  this  office ; but,  on  the  death  of  Lord  Lake,  all 
difficulties  were  removed,  and  the  appointment  was  confirmed  to 
Sheridan  for  his  life. 

In  order  to  afford  some  insight  into  the  nature  of  that  friend- 
ship, which  existed  so  long  between  the  Heir  Apparent  and 
Sheridan, — though  unable,  of  course,  to  produce  any  of  the 
numerous  letters,  on  the  Royal  side  of  the  correspondence,  that 
have  been  found  among  the  papers  in  my  possession, — I shall 
here  give,  from  a rough  copy  in  Sheridan’s  hand-writing,  a letter 
which  he  addressed  about  this  time  to  the  Prince : — 

“ It  is  matter  of  surprise  to  my  self,  as  well  as  of  deep  regret, 
that  I should  have  incurred  the  appearance  of  ungrateful  neglect 
and  disrespect  towards  the  person  to  whom  I am  most  oblig- 
ed on  earth,  to  whom  I feel  the  most  ardent,  dutiful,  and 
affectionate  attachment,  and  in  whose  service  I would  readily 
sacrifice  my  life.  Yet  so  it  is,  and  lo  nothing  but  a perverse 


lltGHT  HON.  EICHARt)  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  25? 


combination  of  circumstances,  which  would  form  no  excuse  were 
1 to  recapitulate  them,  can  I attribute  a conduct  so  strange  on 
my  part;  and  from  nothing  but  Your  Royal  Highness’s  kind- 
ness and  benignity  alone  can  I expect  an  indulgent  allowance  and 
oblivion  of  that  conduct : nor  could  I even  hope  for  this  were  1 
not  conscious  of  the  unabated  and  unalterable  devotion  towards 
Your  Royal  Highness  which  lives  in  my  heart,  and  will  ever  con 
tinue  to  be  its  pride  and  boast. 

“ But  I should  ill  deserve  the  indulgence  I request  did  I not 
frankly  state  what  has  passed  in  my  mind,  which,  though  it  can- 
not justify,  may,  in  some  degree,  extenuate  what  must  have  ap- 
peared ^o  strange  to  Your  Royal  Highness,  previous  to  Your 
Royal  Highness’s  having  actually  restored  me  to  the  office  I had 
resigned. 

“ I was  mortified  and  hurt  in  the  keenest  manner  by  having 
repeated  to  me  from  an  authority  which  I then  trusted^  some  ex- 
pressions of  Your  Royal  Highness  respecting  me,  which  it  was 
impossible  I could  have  deserved.  Though  I was  most  solemnly 
pledged  never  to  reveal  the  source  from  which  the  communica- 
tion came,  I for  some  time  intended  to  unburthen  my  mind  to 
my  sincere  friend  and  Your  Royal  Highness’s  most  attached  and 
excellent  servant,  McMahon — but  I suddenly  discovered,  beyond 
a doubt,  that  I had  been  grossly  deceived,  and  that  there  had  not 
existed  the  slightest  foundation  for  the  tale  that  had  been  imposed 
on  me;  and  I do  humbly  ask  Your  Royal  Highness’s  pardon  for 
having  for  a moment  credited  a fiction  suggested  by  mischief  and 
malice.  Yet,  extraordinary  as  it  must  seem,  I had  so  long,  under 
this  false  impression,  neglected  the  course  which  duty  and  grati- 
tude required  from  me,  that  I felt  an  unaccountable  shyness  and 
reserve  in  repairing  my  error,  and  to  this  procrastination  other 
unlucky  circumstances  contributed.  One  day  when  I had  the 
honor  of  meeting  Your  Royal  Highness  on  horseback  in  Oxford- 
Street,  though  your  manner  was  as  usual^  gracious  and  kind  to 
me,  you  said  that  I had  deserted  you  privately  and  politically, 
I had  long  before  that  been  assured,  though  falsely  I am  con- 
vinced, that  Your  Royal  Highness  had  promised  to  make  a point 


258 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THfi 


that  I should  neither  speak  nor  vote  on  Lord  Wellesly’s  business, 
My  view  of  this  topic,  and  my  knowledge  of  the  delicate  situa- 
tion in  which  Your  Royal  Highness  stood  in  respect  to  the 
Catholic  question,  though  weak  and  inadequate  motives,  I confess, 
yet  encouraged  the  continuance  of  that  reserve  which  my  original 
error  had  commenced.  These  subjects  being  passed  by, — and 
sure  I am  Your  Royal  Highness  would  never  deliberately  ask 
me  to  adopt  a course  of  debasing  inconsistency, — it  was  my 
hope  fully  and  frankly  to  have  explained  myself  and  repaired 
my  fault,  when  I was  informed  that  a circumstance  that  happened 
at  Burlington-House,  and  which  must  have  been  heinously  mis- 
represented, had  greatly  offended  you ; and  soon  after  it  was 
stated  to  me,  by  an  authority  which  I have  no  objection  to  dis- 
close, that  Your  Royal  Highness  had  quoted,  with  marked  dis- 
approbation, words  supposed  to  have  been  spoken  by  me  on  the 
Spanish  question,  and  of  which  words,  as  there  is  a God  in 
heaven,  I never  uttered  one  syllable. 

“ Most  justly  may  Your  Royal  Highness  answer  to  all  this, 
why  have  I not  sooner  stated  these  circumstances,  and  confided 
in  that  uniform  friendship  and  protection  which  I have  so  long 
experienced  at  your  hands.  I can  only  plead  a nervous,  procras- 
tinating nature,  abetted,  perhaps,  by  sensations  of,  I trust,  no 
false  pride,  which,  hov/ever  1 may  blame  myself,  impel  me  in- 
voluntarily to  fly  from  the  risk  of  even  a cold  look  from  the 
quarter  to  which  I owe  so  much,  and  by  whom  to  be  esteemed  is 
the  glory  and  consolation  of  my  private  and  public  life. 

“ One  point  only  remains  for  me  to  intrude  upon  Your  Royal 
Highness’s  consideration,  but  it  is  of  a nature  fit  only  for  per- 
sonal communication.  I therefore  conclude,  wdth  again  entreat- 
ing Your  Royal  Highness  to  continue  and  extend  the  indulgence 
which  the  imperfections  in  my  character  have  so  often  received 
from  you,  and  yet  to  be  assured  that  there  never  did  exist  to 
Monarch,  Prince,  or  man,  a firmer  or  purer  attachment  than  I 
feel,  and  to  my  death  shall  feel,  to  you,  my  gracious  Prince  and 
Master.” 


RIGHT  HOJSr.  RICHARD  BRIlsrSLEY  SHERIDAN.  259 


CHAPTEE  X. 

DESTRUCTION  OF  THE  THEATRE  OF  DRURY-LANE  BY  FIRE. 
— MR.  WHITBREAD. — PLAN  FOR  A THIRD  THEATRE. — ILL- 
NESS OF  THE  KING. — REGENCY. — LORD  GREY  AND  LORD 
GRENVILLE. — CONDUCT  OF  MR.  SHERIDAN. — HIS  VINDI- 
CATION OF  HIMSELF. 

With  the  details  of  the  embarrassments  of  Drury-Lane  Theatre, 
I have  endeavored,  as  little  as  possible,  to  encumber  the  attention 
of  the  reader.  This  part  of  my  subject  would,  indeed,  require  a 
volume  to  itself.  The  successive  partnerships  entered  into  with 
Mr.  Grubb  and  Mr.  Richardson, — the  different  Trust-deeds  for 
the  general  and  individual  property, — the  various  creations  of 
shares, — the  controversies  between  the  Trustees  and  Proprietors, 
as  to  the  obligations  of  the  Deed  of  1793,  which  ended  in  a 
Chancery-suit  in  1799, — the  perpetual  entanglements  of  the 
property  which  Sheridan’s  private  debts  occasioned,  and  which 
even  the  friendship  and  skill  of  Mr.  Adam  were  wearied  out  in 
endeavoring  to  rectify, — all  this  would  lead  to  such  a mass  of  de- 
tails and  correspondence  as,  though  I have  waded  through  it  my- 
self, it  is  by  no  means  necessary  to  inflict  upon  others. 

The  great  source  of  the  involvements,  both  of  Sheridan  him- 
self and  of  the  concern,  is  to  be  found  in  the  enormous  excess  of 
the  expense  of  rebuilding  the  Theatre  in  1793,  over  the  amount 
stated  by  the  architect  in  his  estimate.  This  amount  was 
75,000/. ; and  the  sum  of  150,000/.  then  raised  by  subscription, 
would,  it  was  calculated,  in  addition  to  defraying  this  charge, 
pay  off  also  the  mortgage-debts  with  which  the  Theatre  was 
encumbered.  It  was  soon  found,  howeve^  that  the  expense  of 
building  the  House  alone  would  exceed  the  whole  amount  raised 
by  subscription ; and,  notwithstanding  the  advance  of  a consider- 


m 


MEMOIRS  OR  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


able  sum  beyond  the  estimate,  the  Theatre  was  delivered  in  a 
very  unfinished  state  into  the  hands  of  the  proprietors, — only 
part  of  the  mortgage-debts  was  paid  off,  and,  altogether  a debt 
of  70,000/.  was  left  upon  the  property.  This  debt  Mr.  Sheridan 
and  the  other  proprietors  took,  voluntarily,  and,  as  it  has  been 
thought,  inconsiderately,  upon  themselves, — the  builders,  by  their 
contracts,  having  no  legal  claim  upon  them, — and  the  payment 
of  it  being  at  various  times  enforced,  not  only  against  the 
theatre,  but  against  the  private  property  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  in- 
volved both  in  a degree  of  embarrassment  from  which  there 
appeared  no  hope  of  extricating  them. 

Such  was  the  state  of  this  luckless  property, — and  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  imagine  any  change  for  the  worse  that 
could  befall  it, — when,  early  in  the  present  year,  an  event 
occurred,  that  seemed  to  fill  up  at  once  the  measure  of  its  ruin. 
On  the  night  of  the  24th  of  February,  while  the  House  of  Com- 
mons was  occupied  with  Mr.  Ponsonby’s  motion  on  the  Conduct 
of  the  War  in  Spain,  and  Mr.  Sheridan  was  in  attendance,  with 
the  intention,  no  doubt,  of  speaking,  the  House  was  suddenly 
illuminated  by  a blaze  of  light ; and,  the  Debate  being  interrupt- 
ed, it  was  ascertained  that  the  Theatre  of  Drury-Lane  was  on 
fire.  A motion  was  made  to  adjourn ; but  Mr.  Sheridan  said, 
with  much  calmness,  that  “ whatever  might  be  the  extent  of  the 
private  calamity,  he  hoped  it  would  not  interfere  with  the  pub- 
lic business  of  the  country.”  He  then  left  the  House ; and,  pro- 
ceeding to  Drury-Lane,  witnessed,  with  a fortitude  which  strong- 
ly interested  all  who  observed  him,  the  entire  destruction  of  his 
property.* 

Among  his  losses  on  the  occasion  there  was  one  which,  from 
being  associated  with  feelings  of  other  times,  may  have  affected 


* It  is  said  that,  as  he  sat  at  the  Piazza  Coffee-house,  during  the  fire,  taking  some  re- 
freshment, a friend  of  his  having  remarked  on  the  philosophic  calmness  with  which  he 
bore  his  misfortune,  Sheridan  answered,  “ A man  may  surely  be  allowed  to  take  a glass 
of  wine  by  his  own  fireside.^  ^ 

Without  vouching  for  the  authenticity  or  novelty  of  this  anecdote,  (which  may  have 
been,  for  aught  I know,  like  the  wandering  Jew,  a regular  attendant  upon  all  fires,  sioee 
the  lime  of  Ilierocles,)  I give  it  as  I neard  it. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  261 


him,  perhaps,  more  deeply  than  many  that  were  far  more  serious, 
A harpsichord,  that  had  belonged  to  his  first  wife,  and  had  long 
survived  her  sweet  voice  in  silent  widowhood,  was,  with  other 
articles  of  furniture  that  had  been  moved  from  Somerset-House 
to  the  Theatre,  lost  in  the  flames. 

The  ruin  thus  brought  upon  this  immense  property  seemed, 
for  a time,  beyond  all  hope  of  retrieval.  The  embarrassments 
of  the  concern  were  known  to  have  been  so  great,  and  such  a 
swarm  of  litigious  claims  lay  slumbering  under  those  ashes,  that 
it  is  not  surprising  the  public  should  have  been  slow  and  unwil- 
ling to  touch  them.  Nothing,  indeed,  short  of  the  intrepid  zeal 
of  Mr.  Whitbread  could  have  ventured  upon  the  task  of  reme- 
dying so  complex  a calamity  ; nor  could  any  industry  less  per- 
severing have  compassed  the  miracle  of  rebuilding  and  re-animat* 
ing  that  edifice,  among  the  many-tongued  claims  that  beset  and 
perplexed  his  enterprise. 

In  the  following  interesting  letter  to  him  from  Sheridan,  we 
trace  the  first  steps  of  his  friendly  interference  on  the  occasion  : — 

“My  Dear  Whithbread, 

“ Procrastination  is  always  the  consequence  of  an  indolent  man^s  resolv- 
ing to  write  a long  detailed  letter,  upon  any  subject,  however  important  to 
himself,  or  whatever  may  be  the  confidence  he  has  in  the  friend  he  pro- 
poses to  write  to.  To  this  must  be  attributed  your  having  escaped  the  state- 
ment I threatened  you  with  in  my  last  letter,  and  the  brevity  with  which  I 
now  propose  to  call  your  attention  to  the  serious,  and,  to  me,  most  impor- 
tant request,  contained  in  this, — reserving  all  I meant  to  have  written  for 
personal  communication. 

“ I pay  you  no  compliment  when  I say  that,  without  comparison,  you  are 
the  man  living,  in  my  estimation,  the  most  disposed  and  the  most  compe- 
tent to  bestow  a portion  of  your  time  and  ability  to  assist  the  call  of 
friendship, — on  the  condition  that  that  call  shall  be  proved  to  be  made 
in  a cause  just  and  honorable,  and  in  every  respect  entitled  to  your  pro- 
tection. 

“ On  this  ground  alone  I make  my  application  to  you.  You  said,  some 
time  since,  in  my  house,  but  in  a careless  conversation  only,  that  you  would 
be  a Member  of  a Committee  for  rebuilding  Drury-Lane  Theatre,  if  it  would 
serve  me ; and,  indeed,  you  very  kindly  suggested,  yourself,  that  there 
were  more  persons  disposed  to  assist  that  object  than  I might  be  aware 


282 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


of.  I most  thankfully  accept  the  offer  of  your  interference,  and  am  com 
vlnced  of  the  benefits  your  friendly  exertions  are  competent  to  produce. 
I have  worked  the  whole  subject  in  my  own  mind,  and  see  a clear  way  to 
retrieve  a great  property,  at  least  to  my  son  and  his  family,  if  my  plan 
meets  the  support  I hope  it  will  appear  to  merit. 

Writing  thus  to  you  in  the  sincerity  of  private  friendship,  and  the  reli- 
ance I place  on  my  opinion  of  your  character,  I need  not  ask  of  you,  though 
eager  and  active  in  politics  as  you  are,  not  to  be  severe  in  criticising  my 
palpable  neglect  of  all  parliamentary  duty.  It  would  not  be  easy  to  ex- 
plain to  you,  or  even  to  make  you  comprehend,  or  any  one  in  prosperous 
and  affluent  plight,  the  private  difficulties  I have  to  struggle  with.  My 
mind,  and  the  resolute  independence  belonging  to  it,  has  not  been  in  the 
least  subdued  by  the  late  calamity ; but  the  consequences  arising  from  it 
have  more  engaged  and  embarrassed  me  than,  perhaps,  I have  been  wil- 
ling to  allow.  It  has  been  a principle  of  my  life,  persevered  in  through 
great  difficulties,  never  to  borrow  money  of  a private  friend  ; and  this  re- 
solution I would  starve  rather  than  violate.  Of  course,  I except  the  politi- 
cal aid  of  election-subscription.  When  I ask  you  to  take  a part  in  the  set- 
tlement of  my  shattered  affairs,  I ask  you  only  to  do  so  after  a previous  in- 
vestigation of  every  part  of  the  past  circumstances  which  relate  to  the  trust 
I wish  you  to  accept,  in  conjunction  with  those  who  wish  to  serve  me,  and 
to  whom  I think  you  could  not  object.  I may  be  again  seized  with  an  ill- 
ness as  alarming  as  that  I lately  experienced.  Assist  me  in  relieving  my 
mind  from  the  greatest  affliction  that  such  a situation  can  again  produce, — 
the  fear  of  others  suffering  by  my  death. 

To  effect  this  little  more  is  necessary  than  some  resolution  on  my  part, 
and  the  active  superintending  advice  of  a mind  like  yours. 

Thus  far  on  paper . I will  see  you  next , and  therefore  will  not 

trouble  you  for  a written  reply.’’ 

Encoaniged  by  the  opening  which  the  destruction  of  Drury- 
Lane  seemed  to  offer  to  free  adventure  in  theatrical  property,  a 
project  was  set  on  foot  for  the  establishment  of  a Third  Great 
Theatre,  which,  being  backed  by  much  of  the  influence  and  wealth 
of  the  city  of  London,  for  some  time  threatened  destruction  to  the 
monopoly  that  had  existed  so  long.  But,  by  the  exertions  of  Mr. 
Sheridan  and  his  friends,  this  scheme  was  defeated,  and  a Bill  for 
the  erection  of  Drury-Lane  Theatre  by  subscription,  and  for  the 
incorporation  of  the  subscribers,  was  passed  through  Parliament. 

That  Mr.  Sheridan  himself  would  have  had  no  objection  to  a 
Third  Theatre,  if  held  by  a Joint  Grant  to  the  Proprietors  of  the 


HIGHT  HON.  PJCHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  263 


Other  two,  appears  not  only  from  his  speeches  and  petitions  on 
the  subject  at  this  time,  but  from  the  following  Plan  for  such  an 
establishment,  drawn  up  by  him,  some  years  before,  and  intend 
ed  to  be  submitted  to  the  consideration  of  the  Proprietors  oi 
both  Houses  : — 

Gentlemen, 

According  to  your  desire,  the  plan  of  the  proposed  Assistant  Theatre 
is  here  explained  in  writing  for  your  further  consideration. 

‘‘  From  our  situations  in  the  Theatres  Royal  of  Drury-Lane  and  Covent- 
Garden  we  have  had  opportunities  of  observing  many  circumstances  rela- 
tive to  our  general  property,  which  must  have  escaped  those  who  do  not 
materially  interfere  in  the  management  of  that  property.  One  point  in  par- 
ticular has  lately  weighed  extremely  in  our  opinions,  which  is,  an  appre- 
hension of  a new  Theatre  being  erected  for  some  species  or  other  of  dramatic 
entertainment.  Were  this  event  to  take  place  on  an  opposing  interest,  our 
property  would  sink  in  value  one-half,  and  in  all  probability,  the  contest 
that  would  ensue  would  speedily  end  in  the  absolute  ruin  of  one  of  the  pre- 
sent established  Theatres.  We  have  reason,  it  is  true,  from  His  Majesty’s 
gracious  patronage  to  the  present  Houses,  to  hope,  that  a Third  patent  for 
a winter  Theatre  is  not  easily  to  be  obtained  ; but  the  motives  which  appear 
to  call  for  one  are  so  many,  (and  those  of  such  a nature,  as  to  increase  every 
day,)  that  we  cannot,  on  the  maturest  consideration  of  the  subject,  divest 
ourselves  of  the  dread  that  such  an  event  may  not  be  very  remote.  With 
this  apprehension  before  us,  we  have  naturally  fallen  into  a joint  considera- 
tion of  the  means  of  preventing  so  fatal  a blow  to  the  present  Theatres,  or 
of  deriving  a general  advantage  from  a circumstance  which  might  other 
wise  be  our  ruin. 

Some  of  the  leading  motives  for  the  establishment  of  a Third  Theatre 
are  as  follows  : — 

“ 1st.  The  great  extent  of  the  town  and  increased  residence  of  a higher 
class  of  people,  who,  on  account  of  many  circumstances,  seldom  frequent 
the  Theatre. 

2d.  The  distant  situation  of  the  Theatres  from  the  politer  streets,  and 
the  difiSculty  with  which  ladies  reach  their  carriages  or  chairs. 

“ 3d.  ‘The  small  number  of  side-boxes,  where  only,  by  the  uncontrollable 
influence  of  fashion,  ladies  of  any  rank  can  be  induced  to  sit. 

“ 4th.  The  earliness  of  the  hour,  which  renders  it  absolutely  impossible 
for  those  who  attend  on  Parliament,  live  at  any  distance,  or,  indeed,  for 
any  person  who  dines  at  the  prevailing  hour,  to  reach  the  Theatre  before 
the  performance  is  half  over. 


264 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


These  considerations  have  lately  been  strongly  urged  to  me  by  many 
leading  persons  of  rank.  There  has  also  prevailed,  as  appears  by  the  num- 
ber of  private  plays  at  gentlemen’s  seats,  an  unusual  fashion  for  theatrical 
entertainments  among  the  politer  class  of  people  ; and  it  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  that  they,  feeling  themselves,  (from  the  causes  above  enumerat- 
ed,) in  a manner,  excluded  from  our  Theatres,  should  persevere  in  an  en- 
deavor to  establish  some  plan  of  similar  entertainment,  on  principles  of 
superior  elegance  and  accommodation. 

In  proof  of  this  disposition,  and  the  effects  to  be  apprehended  from  it, 
we  need  but  instance  one  fact,  among  many,  which  might  be  produced, 
and  that  is  the  well-known  circumstance  of  a subscription  having  actually 
been  begun  last  winter,  with  very  powerful  patronage,  for  the  importation 
of  a French  company  of  comedians,  a scheme  which,  though  it  might  not 
have  answered  to  the  undertaking,  would  certainly  have  been  the  founda- 
tion of  other  entertainments,  whose  opposition  we  should  speedily  have  ex- 
perienced. The  question,  then,  upon  a full  vievv^  of  our  situation,  appears 
to  be,  whether  the  Proprietors  of  the  present  Theatres  vdll  contentedly 
wait  till  some  other  person  takes  advantage  of  the  prevailing  wish  for  a 
Third  Theatre,  or,  having  the  remedy  in  their  power,  profit  by  a turn  of 
fashion  which  they  cannot  control. 

A full  conviction  that  the  latter  is  the  only  line  of  conduct  which  can 
give  security  to  the  Patents  of  Drury-Lane  and  Covent-Garden  Theatres, 
and  yield  a probability  of  future  advantage  in  the  exercise  of  them,  has 
prompted  us  to  endeavor  at  modelling  this  plan,  on  which  we  conceive 
those  Theatres  may  unite  in  the  support  of  a Third,  to  the  general  and  mu- 
tual advantage  of  all  the  Proprietors. 

Proposals. 

The  Proprietors  of  the  Theatre-Royal  in  Covent  Garden  appear  to  be 
possessed  of  two  Patents,  for  the  privilege  of  acting  plays,  &c.,  under  one 
of  which  the  above-mentioned  Theatre  is  opened, — the  other  lying  dormant 
and  useless  ; — it  is  proposed  that  this  dormant  Patent  shall  be  exercised, 
(with  His  Majesty’s  approbation,)  in  order  to  license  the  dramatic  perform- 
cnce  of  the  new  Theatre  to  be  erected. 

It  is  proposed  that  the  performances  of  this  new  Theatre  shall  be  sup- 
ported from  the  united  establishments  of  the  two  present  Theatres,  so  that 
the  unemployed  part  of  each  company  may  exert  themselves  for  the  ad- 
vantage of  the  whole. 

‘‘As  the  ol)ject  of  this  Assistant  Theatre  will  be  to  reimburse  the  Pro- 
prietors of  the  other  two,  at  the  full  season,  for  the  expensive  establishment 
they  are  obliged  to  maintain  when  the  town  is  almost  empty,  it  is  proposed, 
that  the  scheme  of  businesss  to  bo  adopted  in  the  new  Theatre  shall  differ 


EIGHT  HOH.  EICHAKD  ERIHSLEY  SHERIDAN.  265 


as  much  as  possible  from  that  of  the  other  two,  and  that  the  performances 
at  the  new  house  shall  be  exhibited  at  a superior  price,  and  shall  commence 
at  a later  hour. 

“ The  Proposers  will  undertake  to  provide  a Theatre  for  the  purpose,  in 
a proper  situation,  and  on  the  following  terms : — If  they  engage  a Theatre 
to  be  built,  being  the  property  of  the  builder  or  builders,  it  must  be  for  an 
agreed  on  rent,  with  security  for  a term  of  years.  In  this  case  the  Proprie- 
tors of  the  two  present  Theatres  shall  jointly  and  severally  engage  in  the 
whole  of  the  risk ; and  the  Proposers  are  ready,  on  equitable  terms,  to  un- 
dertake the  management  of  it.  But,  if  the  Proposers  find  themselves 
enabled,  either  on  their  own  credit,  or  by  the  assistance  of  their  friends, 
or  on  a plan  of  subscription,  the  mode  being  devised,  arid  the  security 
given  by  themselves,  to  become  the  builders  of  the  Theatre,  the  interest  in 
the  building  will,  in  that  case,  be  the  property  of  the  Proposers,  and  they 
will  undertake  to  demand  no  rent  for  the  performances  therein  to  be  ex- 
hibited for  the  mutual  advantage  of  the  two  present  Theatres. 

“ The  Proposers  will,  in  this  case,  conducting  the  business  under  the  dor- 
mant Patent  above  mentioned,  bind  themselves,  that  no  theatrical  entertain- 
ments, as  plays,  farces,  pantomimes,  or  English  operas,  shall  at  any  time  be 
exhibited  in  this  Theatre  but  for  the  general  advantage  of  the  Proprietors 
of  the  two  other  Theatres ; the  Proposers  reserving  to  themselves  any 
profit  they  can  make  of  their  building,  converted  to  purposes  distinct  ft'om 
the  business  of  the  Theatres. 

The  Proposers,  undertaking  the  management  of  the  new  Theatre,  shall 
be  entitled  to  a sum  to  be  settled  by  the  Proprietors  at  large,  or  by  an 
equitable  arbitration. 

“ It  is  proposed,  that  all  the  Proprietors  of  the  two  present  Theatres 
Royal  of  Drury-Lane  and  Covent-Garden  shall  share  all  profits  from  the 
dramatic  entertainments  exhibited  at  the  new  Theatre  ; that  is,  each  shall 
be  entitled  to  receive  a dividend  in  proportion  to  the  shares  he  or  she  pos- 
sesses of  the  present  Theatres : first  only  deducting  a certain  nightly  sum 
to  be  paid  to  the  Proprietors  of  Covent-Garden  Theatre,  as  a consideration 
for  the  license  furnished  by  the  exercise  of  their  present  dormant  Patent. 

“ ’Fore  Heaven ! the  Plan’s  a good  Plan ! I shall  add  a little  Epilogue 
to-morrow. 


“ R.  B.  S.” 

‘‘  ’Tis  now  too  late,  and  I’ve  a letter  to  write 
Before  I go  to  bed, — and  then,  Good  Night.” 


In  the  month  of  July,  this  year,  the  Installation  of  Lord  Gren- 
ville, as  Chancellor  of  Oxford,  took  place,  and  Mr.  Sheridan  was 
among  the  distinguished  persons  that  aUeiided  the  ceremony.  As 

VOL.  II.  12 


266 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


a number  of  honorar  degrees  were  to  be  conferred  on  the  occa- 
sion, it  was  expected,  as  a matter  of  course,  that  his  name  would 
be  among  those  selected  for  that  distinction ; and,  to  the  honor 
of  the  University,  it  was  the  general  wish  among  its  leading  mem- 
bers that  such  a tribute  should  be  paid  to  his  high  political  char 
acter.  .On  the  proposal  of  his  name,  however,  (in  a private  meet- 
ing, I believe,  held  previously  to  the  Convocation,)  the  words 
“ Non  placet^^  were  heard  from  two  scholars,  one  of  whom,  it  is 
said,  had  no  nobler  motive  for  his  opposition  than  that  Sheridan 
did  not  pay  his  father’s  tithes  very  regularly.  Several  efforts 
were  made  to  win  over  these  dissentients ; and  the  Rev.  Mr.  In- 
gram delivered  an  able  and  liberal  Latin  speech,  in  which  he  in- 
dignantly represented  the  shame  that  it  would  bring  on  the  Uni- 
versity, if  such  a name  as  that  of  Sheridan  should  be  “ clam  sub- 
ductuni’^  from  the  list.  The  two  scholars,  however,  were  im- 
movable ; and  nothing  remained  but  to  give  Sheridan  intimation 
of  their  intended  opposition,  so  as  to  enable  him  to  decline  the 
honor  of  having  his  name  proposed.  On  his  appearance,  after- 
wards, in  the  Theatre,  a burst  of  acclamation  broke  forth,  with  a 
general  cry  of  “Mr.  Sheridan  among  the  Doctors, — Sheridan 
among  the  Doctors in  compliance  with  which  he  was  passed 
to  the  seat  occupied  by  the  Honorary  Graduates,  and  sat,  in  un- 
robed distinction,  among  them,  during  the  whole  of  the  ceremo- 
nial. Few  occurrences,  of  a public  nature,  ever  gave  him  more 
pleasure  than  this  reception. 

At  the  close  of  the  year  1810,  the  malady,  with  which  the  king 
had  been  thrice  before  afflicted,  returned ; and,  after  the  usual 
adjournments  of  Parliament,  it  was  found  necessary  to  establish 
a Regency.  On  the  question  of  the  second  adjournment,  Mr. 
Sheridan  took  a line  directly  opposed  to  that  of  his  party,  and 
voted  with  the  majority.  Diat  in  this  step  he  did  not  act  from 
any  previous  concert  with  the  Prince,  appears  from  the  following 
letter,  addressed  by  him  to  His  Royal  Highness  on  the  subject, 
and  containing  particulars  which  will  prepare  the  mind  of  the 
reader  to  judge  more  clearly  of  the  events  that  followed. — 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  267 
“ Sir, 

“ I felt  infinite  satisfaction  when  I was  apprised  that  Your  Eoyal 
Highness  had  been  far  from  disapproving  the  line  of  conduct  I 
had  presumed  to  pursue,  on  the  last  question  of  adjournment  in 
the  House  of  Commons.  Indeed,  I never  had  a moment’s  doubt 
but  that  Your  Royal  Highness  would  give  me  credit  that  I was 
actuated  on  that,  as  I shall  oh  every  other  occasion  through  my 
existence,  by  no  possible  motive  but  the  most  sincere  and  un- 
mixed desire  to  look  to  Your  Royal  Highness’s  honor  and  true 
interest,  as  the  objects  of  my  political  life, — directed,  as  I am  sure 
your  efforts  will  ever  be,  to  the  essential  interests  of  the  Country 
and  the  Constitution.  To  this  line  of  conduct  I am  prompted  by 
every  motive  of  personal  gratitude,  and  confirmed  by  every  op- 
portunity, which  peculiar  circumstances  and  long  experience  have 
afforded  me,  of  judging  of  your  heart  and  understanding, — to  the 
superior  excellence  of  which,  (beyond  all,  I believe,  that  ever 
stood  in  your  rank  and  high  relation  to  society,)  I fear  not  to  ad- 
vance my  humble  testimony,  because  I scruple  not  to  say  for 
myself,  that  I am  no  flatterer,  and  that  I never  found  that  to  he- 
come  one  was  the  road  to  your  real  regard. 

“ I state  thus  much  because  it  has  been  under  the  influence  of 
these  feelings  that  I have  not  felt  myself  warranted,  (without  any 
previous  communication  with  Your  Roybal  Highness,)  to  follow 
implicitly  the  dictates  of  others,  in  whom,  however  they  may  be 
my  superiors  in  many  qualities,  I can  subscribe  to  no  superiority 
as  to  devoted  attachment  and  duteous  affection  to  Your  Royal 
Highness,  or  in  that  practical  knowledge  of  the  public  mind  and 
character,  upon  which  alone  must  be  built  that  popular  and  per- 
sonal estimation  of  Your  Royal  Highness,  so  necessary  to  your 
future  happiness  and  glory,  and  to  the  prosperity  of  the  nation 
you  are  destined  to  rule  over. 

‘‘  On  these  grounds,  I saw  no  policy  or  consistency  in  unneces- 
sarily giving  a general  sanction  to  the  examination  of  the  physi- 
cians before  the  Council,  and  then  attempting,  on  the  question  of 
adjournment,  to  hold  that  examination  as  naught.  On  these 
grounds,  I have  ventured  to  doubt  the  wisdom  or  propriety  of 


268 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


anj  endeavor,  (if  any  such  endeavor  has  been  made,)  to  in* 
dace  Your  Royal  Highness,  during  so  critical  a moment,  to 
stir  an  inch  from  the  strong  reserved  post  you  have  chosen,  or 
give  the  slightest  public  demonstration  of  any  future  mtended 
political  preferences  ; — convinced  as  I was  that  the  rule  of  con- 
duct you  had  prescribed  to  yourself  was  precisely  that  which 
was  gaining  you  the  general  heart,  and  rendering  it  impractica- 
ble for  any  quarter  to  succeed  in  annexing  unworthy  conditions  to 
that  most  difficult  situation,  which  you  were  probably  so  soon  to 
be  called  on  to  accept. 

“ I may.  Sir,  have  been  guilty  of  error  of  judgment  in  both 
these  respects,  differing,  as  I fear  I have  done,  from  those  whom  I 
am  bound  so  highly  to  respect ; but,  at  the  same  time,  I deem  it 
no  presumption  to  say  that,  until  better  instructed,  I feel  a strong 
confidence  in  the  justness  of  my  own  view  of  the  subject ; and 
simply. because  of  this — I am  sure  that  the  decisions  of  that  judg- 
ment, be  they  sound  or  mistaken,  have  not,  at  least,  been  rashly 
taken  up,  but  were  founded  on  deliberate  zeal  for  your  service 
and  glory,  unmixed,  I will  confidently  say,  with  any  one  selfish 
object  or  political  purpose  of  my  own.” 

The  same  limitations  and  restrictions  that  Mr.  Pitt  proposed 
in  1789,  were,  upon  the  same  principles,  adopted  by  the  present 
Minister : nor  did  the  Opposition  differ  otherwise  from  their 
former  line  of  argument,  than  by  ommitting  altogether  that 
claim  of  Right  for  the  Prince,  which  Mr.  Fox  had,  in  the  pro- 
ceedings of  1789,  asserted.  The  event  that  ensued  is  sufficiently 
well  known.  To  the  surprise  of  the  public,  (who  expected,  per- 
haps, rather  than  wished,  that  the  Coalesced  Party  of  which  Lord 
Grey  and  Lord  Grenville  were  the  chiefs,  should  now  succeed  to 
powder,)  Mr.  Perceval  and  his  colleagues  wer^  informed  by  the 
Regent  that  it  was  the  intention  of  His  Royal  Highness  to  con- 
tinue them  still  in  office. 

The  share  taken  by  Mr.  Sheridan  in  the  transactions  that  led 
to  this  decision,  is  one  of  those  passages  of  his  political  life  upon 
which  the  criticism  of  his  own  party  has  been  most  severely  ex 
ercised,  and  into  the  details  of  wffiich  I feel  most  difficulty  in  en 


SIGHT  IION.  RICHAEt)  BRINSLKY  SHERIDAN.  ^69 


tering : — because,  however  curious  it  may  be  to  penetrate  into 
these  postscenia'^  of  public  life,  it  seems  hardly  delicate,  while 
so  many  of  the  chief  actors  are  still  upon  the  stage.  As  there 
exists,  however,  a Paper  drawn  up  by  Mr.  Sheridan,  containing 
what  he  considered  a satisfactory  defence  of  his  conduct  on  this 
occasion,  I should  ill  discharge  my  duty  towards  his  memory, 
were  I,  from  any  scruples  or  predilections  of  my  own,  to  deprive 
him  of  the  advantage  of  a statement,  on  which  he  appears  to 
have  relied  so  confidently  for  his  vindication. 

But,  first, — in  order  fully  to  understand  the  whole  course  of 
feelings  and  circumstances,  by  which  not  only  Sheridan,  but  his 
Royal  Master,  (for  their  cause  is,  in  a great  degree,  identified,) 
were  for  some  time  past,  predisposed  towards  the  line  of  con- 
duct which  they  now  pursued, — it  will  be  necessary  to  recur  to  a 
ew  antecedent  events. 

By  the  death  of  Mr.  Fox  the  chief  personal  tie  that  connected 
the  Heir- Apparent  with  the  party  of  that  statesman  was  broken. 
The  political  identity  of  the  party  itself  had,  even  before  that 
event,  been,  in  a great  degree,  disturbed  by  a coalition  against 
which  Sheridan  had  always  most  strongly  protested,  and  to 
which  the  Prince,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe,  was  by  no 
means  friendly.  Immediately  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Fox,  His 
Royal  Highness  made  known  his  intentions  of  withdrawing  from 
all  personal  interference  in  politics ; and,  though  still  continuing 
his  sanction  to  the  remaining  Ministry,  expressed  himself  as  no 
longer  desirous  of  being  considered  “ a party  man.”*  During 
the  short  time  that  these  Ministers  continued  in  office,  the  un- 
derstanding between  them  and  the  Prince  was  by  no  means  of 
that  cordial  and  confidential  kind,  which  had  been  invariably 
maintained  during  the  life-time  of  Mr.  Fox.  On  the  contrary, 

*Tliis  is  the  phrase  used  by  the  Prince  himself,  in  a Letter  addressed  to  a Noble  Lord, 
(not  long  after  the  dismissal  of  the  Grenville  Ministry,)  for  the  purpose  of  vindicating  his 
own  character  from  son.e  imputations  cast  upon  it,  in  consequence  of  an  interview  which 
he  had  lately  had  with  the  King.  This  important  exposition  of  the  feelings  of  His  Royal 
Highness,  which,  more  than  any  thing,  throws  light  upon  his  subsequent  conduct,  was 
drawn  up  by  Sheridan  ; and  I had  hoped  that  I should  have  been  able  to  lay  it  before  the 
reade  ’ : — but  the  liberty  of  perusing  the  Letter  is  al!  that  lias  been  allowed  me. 


270 


MEMOlKS  OE  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


the  impression  on  the  mind  of  His  Royal  Highness,  as  well  as 
on  those  of  his  immediate  friends  in  the  Ministry,  Lord  Moira 
and  Mr.  Sheridan,  was,  that  a cold  neglect  had  succeeded  to  the 
confidence  with  which  they  had  hitherto  been  treated ; and  that, 
neither  in  their  opinions  nor  feelmgs,  were  they  any  longer  suffi- 
ciently consulted  or  considered.  The  very  measure,  by  which 
the  Ministers  ultimately  lost  their  places,  was,  it  appears,  one  of 
those  which  the  Illustrious  Personage  in  question  neither  conceiv- 
ed himself  to  have  been  sufficiently  consulted  upon  before  its 
adoption,  nor  approved  of  afterwards. 

Such  w^ere  the  gradual  loosenings  of  a bond,  which  at  no  time 
had  promised  much  permanence  ; and  such  the  train  of  feelings* 
and  circumstances  which,  (combining  with  certain  prejudices  in 
the  Royal  mind  against  one  of  the  chief  leaders  of  the  party,) 
prepared  the  way  for  that  result  by  which  the  Public  was  sur- 
prised in  1811,  and  the  private  details  of  which  I shall  now,  as 
briefly  as  possible,  relate. 

As  soon  as  the  Bill  for  regulating  the  office  of  Regent  had 
passed  the  two  Houses,  the  Prince,  who,  till  then,  had  maintained 
a strict  reserve  with  respect  to  his  intentions,  signified,  through 
Mr.  Adam,  his  pleasure  that  Lord  Grenville  should  wait  upon 
him.  He  then,  in  the  most  gracious  manner,  expressed  to  that 
Noble  Lord  his  wish  that  he  should,  in  conjunction  with  Lord 
Grey,  prepare  the  Answer  which  his  Royal  Highness  was,  in  a 
few  days,  to  return  to  the  Address  of  the  Houses.  The  same 
confidential  task  was  entrusted  also  to  Lord  Moira,  with  an  ex- 
pressed desire  that  he  should  consult  with  Lord  Grey  and  Lord 
Grenville  on  the  subject.  But  this  co-operation,  as  I understand, 
the  two  Noble  Lords  declined. 

One  of  the  embarrassing  consequences  of  Coalitions  now  ap- 
peared. The  recorded  opinions  of  Lord  Grenville  on  the  Regen- 
cy Question  differed  wholly  and  in  principle  not  only  from  those 
of  his  coadjutor  in  this  task,  but  from  those  of  the  Royal  person 
himself,  whose  sentiments  he  was  called  upon  to  interpret.  In 
this  difficulty,  the  only  alternative  that  remained  was  so  to  neu- 
tralize the  terms  of  the  Answer  upon  the  great  point  of  differ- 


ftranr  hoi^.  richari)  BRtKsLElf  shehiDan.  2?1 


ence,  as  to  preserve  the  consistency  of  the  Royal  speaker,  vfith- 
out  at  the  same  time  compromising  that  of  his  Noble  adviser. 
It  required,  of  course,  no  small  art  and  delicacy  thus  to  throw 
into  the  shade  that  distinctive  opinion  of  Whigism,  which  Burke 
had  clothed  in  his  imperishable  language  in  1789,  and  which  Fox 
had  solemnly  bequeathed  to  the  Party,  when 

“ in  his  upward  flight 
He  left  his  mantle  there.”* 

The  Answer,  drawn  up  by  the  Noble  Lords,  did  not,  it  must 
be  confessed,  surmount  this  difficulty  very  skilfully.  The  asser- 
tion of  the  Prince’s  consistency  was  confined  to  two  meagre  sen- 
tences, in  the  first  of  which  His  Royal  Highness  was  made  to 
say  : — ‘‘  With  respect  to  the  proposed  limitation  of  the  authority 
to  be  entrusted  to  me,  I retain  my  former  opinion — and  in 
the  other,  the  expression  of  any  decided  opinion  upon  the  Consti- 
tutional point  is  thus  evaded  : — “ For  such  a purpose  no  restraint 
can  be  necessary  to  be  imposed  upon  me.’’  Somewhat  less  vague 
and  evasive,  however,  was  the  justification  of  the  opinion  opposed 
to  that  of  the  Prince,  in  the  following  sentence  : — “ That  day- 
when  I may  restore  to  the  King  those  powers,  which  as  belonging 
mly  to  are  in  his  name  and  in  his  behalf,”  A;c.  &c.  This, 

it  v/ill  be  recollected,  is  precisely  the  doctrine  which,  on  the  great 
question  of  limiting  the  Prerogative,  Mr.  Fox  attributed  to  the 
Tories.  In  another  passage,  the  Whig  opinion  of  the  Prince  was 
thus  tamely  surrendered  : — “ Conscious  that,  whatever  degree  of 
confidence  you  may  think  fit  to  repose  in  me,”  &c.J 

The  Answer,  thus  constructed,  was,  by  the  two  Noble  Lords, 
transmitted  through  Mr.  Adam,  to  the  Prince,  who,  “ strongly 
objecting,  (as  we  are  told),  to  almost  every  part  of  it,”  acceded 

* Joanna  Baillie. 

f The  words  which  I have  put  in  italics  in  these  quotations,  are,  m the  same  manner, 
underlined  in  Sheridan’s  copy  of  the  Paper, — doubtless,  from  a similar  view  of  their  im- 
port to  that  which  I have  taken. 

J On  the  back  o(  Sheridan’s  own  copy  of  this  Answer,  I find,  written  by  him,  the  fol- 
lowing words  : “ Grenville’s  and  Grey’s  proposed  Answer  from  the  Prince  to  the  Address 
of  the  two  Houses  ; — vta  y flimsy,  and  attempting  to  cover  Grenville’s  conduct  and  con- 
sistency in  supporting  the  present  Restrictions  at  the  expense  of  the  Prince.” 


272  MiiMOmS  OF  the  life  of  the 

to  the  suggestion  of  Sheridan,  whom  he  consulted  on  the  subject, 
that  a new  form  of  Answer  should  be  immediately  sketched  out, 
and  submitted  to  the  consideration  of  Lord  Grey  and  Lord 
Grenville.  There  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  as  the  Address  of  the 
Houses  was  to  be  received  the  following  day.  Accordingly,  Mr. 
Adam  and  Mr.  Sheridan  proceeded  that  night,  with  the  new  draft 
of  the  Answer  to  Holland-House,  where,  after  a warm  discussion 
upon  the  subject  with  Lord  Grey,  which  ended  unsatisfactorily  to 
both  parties,  the  final  result  was  that  the  Answer  drawn  up  by 
the  Prince  and  Sheridan  was  adopted.-*-Such  is  the  bare  outline 
of  this  transaction,  the  circumstances  of  which  will  be  found  fully 
detailed  in  the  Statement  that  shall  presently  be  given. 

The  accusation  against  Sheridan  is,  that  chiefly  to  his  under- 
mining influence  the  view  taken  by  the  Prince  of  the  Paper  of 
these  Noble  Lords  is  to  be  attributed  ; and  that  not  only  was  he 
censurable  in  a constitutional  point  of  view,  for  thus  interfering 
between  the  Sovereign  and  his  responsible  advisers,  but  that  he 
had  been  also  guilty  of  an  act  of  private  perfidy,  in  endeavoring 
to  represent  the  Answer  drawn  up  by  these  Noble  Lords,  as  an 
attempt  to  sacrifice  the  consistency  and  dignity  of  their  Royal 
Master  to  the  compromise  of  opinions  and  principles  which  they 
had  entered  into  themselves. 

Under  the  impression  that  such  were  the  nature  and  motives 
of  his  interference.  Lord  Grey  and  Lord  Grenville,  on  the  11th 
of  January,  (the  day  on  which  the  Answer  substituted  for  their 
own  was  delivered),  presented  a joint  Representation  to  the  Re- 
gent, in  which  they  stated  that  “ the  circumstances  which  had 
occurred,  respecting  His  Royal  Highness’s  Answer  to  the  two 
Houses,  had  induced  them,  most  humbly,  to  solicit  permission  to 
submit  to  His  Royal  Highness  the  following  considerations,  with 
the  undisguised  sincerity  which  the  occasion  seemed  to  require, 
but,  with  every  expression  that  could  best  convey  their  respectful 
duty  and  inviolable  attachment.  When  His  Royal  Highness, 
(they  continued),  did  Lord  Grenville  the  honor,  through  Mr. 
Adam,  to  command  his  attendance,  it  was  distinctly  expressed  to 
him,  that  His  Royal  Highness  had  cordescended  to  select  hirru 


mam  HON.  RiCHAED  BEtNSLEY  SHERIDAN.  27S 


in  conjunction  with  Lord  Grey,  to  be  consulted  with,  as  the  pub- 
lic and  responsible  advisers  of  that  Answer ; and  Lord  Grenville 
could  never  forget  the  gracious  terms  in  which  His  Loyal  High- 
ness had  the  goodness  to  lay  these  his  orders  upon  him.  It  was 
also  on  the  same  grounds  of  public  and  responsible  advice,  that 
Lord  Grey,  honored  in  like  manner  by  the  most  gracious  expres- 
sion of  His  Loyal  Highness’s  confidence  on  this  subject,  applied 
himself  to  the  consideration  of  it  conjointly  with  Lord  Grenville. 
They  could  not  but  feel  the  difficulty  of  the  undertaking,  which 
required  them  to  reconcile  two  objects  essentially  different, — to 
uphold  and  distinctly  to  manifest  that  unshaken  adherence  to  His 
Royal  Highness’s  past  and  present  opinion,  which  consistency 
and  honor  required,  but  to  conciliate,  at  the  same  time,  the  feel- 
ings of  the  two  Houses,  by  expressions  of  confidence  and  affec- 
tion, and  to  lay  the  foundation  of  that  good  understanding  be- 
tween His  Royal  Highness  and  the  Parliament,  the  establish- 
ment of  which  must  be  the  first  wish  of  every  man  who  is  truly 
attached  to  His  Royal  Highness,  and  who  knows  the  value  of  the 
Constitution  of  his  country.  Lord  Grey  and  Lord  Grenville  were 
far  from  the  presumption  of  believing  that  their  humble  endea- 
vors for  the  execution  of  so  difficult  a task  might  not  be  suscep- 
tible of  many  and  great  amendments. 

“ The  draft,  (their  Lordships  said),  which  they  humbly  sub- 
mitted to  His  Royal  Highness  was  considered  by  them  as  open 
to  every  remark  which  might  occur  to  His  Royal  Highness’s 
better  judgment.  On  every  occasion,  but  more  especially  in  the 
preparation  of  His  Royal  klighness’s  first  act  of  government,  it 
would  have  been  no  less  their  desire  than  their  duty  to  have 
profited  by  all  such  objections,  and  to  have  labored  to  accom- 
plish, in  the  best  manner  they  were  able,  every  command  which 
His  Royal  Highness  might  have  been  pleased  to  lay  upon  them. 
Upon  the  objects  to  be  obtained  there  could  be  no  difference  of 
sentiment.  These,  such  as  above  described,  were,  they  confi- 
dently believed,  not  less  important  in  His  Royal  Highness’s  view 
of  the  subject  than  in  that  which  they  themselves  had  ventured 
to  express.  But  they  would  be  wanting  in  that  sincerity  and 

VOL.  II.  12  * 


274 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THS! 


openness  by  which  they  could  alone  hope,  however  imperfectly, 
to  make  any  return  to  that  gracious  confidence  with  which  His 
Royal  Highness  had  condescended  to  honor  them,  if  they  sup- 
pressed the  expression  of  their  deep  concern,  in  finding  that  their 
humble  endeavors  in  His  Royal  Highness’s  service  had  been  sub- 
mitted to  the  judgment  of  another  person,  by  whose  advice  His 
Royal  Highness  had  been  guided  in  his  final  decision,  on  a matr 
ter  on  which  they  alone  had,  however  unworthily,  been  honored 
with  His  Royal  Highness’s  commands.  It  was  their  most 
sincere  and  ardent  wish  that,  in  the  arduous  station  which  His 
Royal  Highness  was  about  to  fill,  he  might  have  the  benefit  of 
the  public  advice  and  responsible  services  of  those  men,  whoever 
they  might  be,  by  whom  His  Royal  Highness’s  glory  and  the 
interests  of  the  country  could  best  be  promoted.  It  would  be 
with  unfeigned  distrust  of  their  own  means  of  discharging  such 
duties  that  they  could,  in  any  case,  venture  to  undertake  them ; 
and,  in  this  humble  but  respectful  representation  which  they  had 
presumed  to  make  of  their  feelings  on  this  occasion,  they  were 
conscious  of  being  actuated  not  less  by  their  dutiful  and  grateful 
attachment  to  His  Royal  Highness,  than  by  those  principles  of 
constitutional  responsibility,  the  maintenance  of  which  they 
deemed  essential  to  any  hope  of  a successful  administration  of 
the  public  interests.” 

On  receiving  this  Representation,  in  which,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, there  was  more  of  high  spirit  and  dignity  than  of  worldly 
wisdom,*  His  Royal  Highness  lost  no  time  in  communicating  it 


* To  the  pure  and  dignified  character  of  the  Noble  Whig  associated  in  this  Remon- 
strance, it  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  say  how  heartily  I bear  testimony.  The  only  fault, 
indeed,  of  this  distinguished  person  is,  that,  knowing  but  one  higli  course  of  conduct  for 
himself,  he  impatiently  resents  any  sinking  from  that  pilch  in  others.  Then,  only,  in  his 
true  station,  when  placed  between  the  People  and  the  Crown,  as  one  of  those  fortresses 
that  ornament  and  defend  the  frontier  of  Democracy,  he  has  shown  that  he  can  but  ill 
suit  the  dimensions  of  his  spirit  to  the  narrow  avenues  of  a Court,  or,  like  that  Pope  who 
stooped  to  look  for  the  keys  of  St.  Peter,  accom'hriodate  his  natural  elevation  to  the  pursuit 
of  official  power.  All  the  pliancy  of  his  nature  is,  indeed,  reserved  for  private  life,  where 
the  repose  of  the  valley  succeeds  to  the  grandeur  of  the  mountain,  and  where  the  lofty 
statesman  gracefully  subs’des  into  tlie  gentle  husband  and  father,  and  the  frank,  social 
friend. 

The  eloquence  of  Ixird  Grey  more  than  that  of  any  other  person,  brings  to  mind  what 


Uiom  HOK.  HICHAKD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  275 


to  Sheridan,  who,  proud  of  the  influence  attributed  to  him  by  the 
Noble  writers,  and  now  more  than  ever  stimulated  to  make  them 
feel  its  weight,  employed  the  whole  force  of  his  shrewdness  and 
ridicule*  in  exposing  the  stately  tone  of  dictation  which,  accord- 
ing to  his  view,  was  assumed  throughout  this  Paper,  and  in 
picturing  to  the  Prince  the  state  of  tutelage  he  might  expect  un- 
der Ministers  who  began  thus  early  with  their  lectures.  Such 
suggestions,  even  if  less  ably  urged,  were  but  too  sure  of  a wil- 
ling audience  in  ihe  ears  to  which  they  were  addressed.  Shortly 
after.  His  Royal  Highness  paid  a visit  to  Windsor,  where  the 
Queen  and  another  Royal  Personage  completed  what  had  been 
so  skilfully  begun ; and  the  important  resolution  was  forthwith 
taken  to  retain  Mr.  Perceval  and  his  colleagues  in  the  Ministry. 

I shall  now  give  the  Statement  of  the  whole  transaction,  which 
Mr.  Sheridan  thought  it  necessary  to  address,  in  his  own  defence, 
to  Lord  Holland,  and  of  which  a rough  and  a fair  copy  have  been 
found  carefully  preserved  among  his  papers  : — 

Queen-  Street y January  15,  1811. 

“Dear  Holland, 

“ As  you  have  been  already  apprised  by  His  Royal  Highness 
the  Prince  that  he  thought  it  becoming  the  frankness  of  his  char- 
acter. and  consistent  with  the  fairness  and  openness  of  proceeding 
due  to  any  of  his  servants  whose  conduct  appears  to  have  incur- 
red* the  disapprobation  of  Lord  Grey  and  Lord  Grenville,  to  com- 
municate their  representations  on  the  subject  to  the  person  so 


Quintilian  says  of  the  great  and  noble  orator,  Messala  : — “ Quodammodo  prce  seferens  in 
dicendo  ndbiUtatem  suam.^^ 

* He  called  rhymes  also  to  his  aid,  as  appears  by  the  following 

“ An  Address  to  the  Pi-ince,  1811. 

“ In  all  humility  we  crave 
Our  Regent  may  become  our  slave, 

And  being  so,  we  trust  that  He  ^ 

Will  thank  us  for  our  loyalty. 

Then,  if  he’ll  help  us  to  pull  dotvn 
His  Father’s  dignity  and  Crown, 

We’ll  make  him,  in  some  time  to  come, 

The  greatest  Prince  in  Christendom.’^ 


2?6 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  Tllfi 


censured,  I am  confident  you  will  give  me  credit  for  the  pain  I 
must  have  felt,  to  find  myself  an  object  of  suspicion,  or  likely,  in 
the  slightest  degree,  to  become  the  cause  of  any  temporary  mis- 
understanding between  His  Royal  Highness  and  those  distin- 
guished characters,  whom  His  Royal  Highness  appears  to  destine 
to  those  responsible  situations,  which  must  in  all  public  matters 
entitle  them  to  his  exclusive  confidence. 

‘‘  I shall  as  briefly  as  I can  state  the  circumstances  of  the  fact, 
so  distinctly  referred  to  in  the  following  passage  of  the  Noble 
Lord’s  Representation : — 

“ ‘ But  they  would  be  wanting  in  that  sincerity  and  openness 
by  which  they  can  alone  hope,  however  imperfectly,  to  make  any 
return  to  that  gracious  confidence  with  which  Your  Royal  High- 
ness has  condescended  to  honor  them,  if  they  suppressed  the  ex- 
pression of  their  deep  concern  in  finding  that  their  humble  endea- 
vors in  Your  Royal  Highness’s  service  have  been  submitted  to 
the  judgment  of  another  person,  hy  whose  advice  Your  Royal 
Highness  has  been  guided  in  your  final  decision  on  a matter  in 
which  they  alone  had,  however  unworthily,  been  honored  with 
Your  Royal  Highness’s  commands.’ 

I must  premise,  that  from  my  first  intercourse  with  the  Prince 
during  the  present  distressing  emergency,  such  conversations  as 
he  may  have  honored  me  with  have  been  communications  of  re- 
solutions already  formed  on  his  part,  and  not  of  matter  referred 
to  consultation  or  submitted  to  advice,  I know  that  my  declin- 
ing to  vote  for  the  further  adjournment  of  the  Privy  Council’s 
examination  of  the  physicians  gave  offence  to  some,  and  was  con- 
sidered as  a difference  from  the  party  I was  rightly  esteemed  to 
belong  to.  The  intentions  of  the  leaders  of  the  party  upon  that 
question  were  in  no  way  distinctly  known  to  me ; my  secession 
was  entirely  my  own  act,  and  not  only  unauthorized,  but  perhaps 
unexpected  by  the  Prince.  My  motives  for  it  I took  the  liberty 
of  communicating  to  His  Royal  Highness  by  letter,*  the  next 
day,  and,  previously  to  that,  I had  not  even  seen  His  Royal 
Highness  since  the  confirmation  of  His  Majesty’s  malady. 

* This  Letter  has  been  given  i^.  page  268. 


EIGHT  HON.  EICHAED  BEINSLEY  SHEEIOAN.  277 


“ If  I differed  from  those  who,  equally  attached  to  His  Royal 
Highness’s  interest  and  honor,  thought  that  His  Royal  Highness 
should  have  taken  the  step  which,  in  my  humble  opinion,  he  has 
since,  precisely  at  the  proper  period,  taken  of  sending  to  Lord 
Grenville  and  Lord  Grey,  I may  certainly  have  erred  in  forming 
an  imperfect  judgment  on  the  occasion,  but,  in  doing  so,  I meant 
no  disrespect  to  those  who  had  taken  a different  view  of  the  sub- 
ject. But,  with  all  deference,  I cannot  avoid  adding,  that  expe- 
rience of  the  impression  made  on  the  public  mind  by  the  re- 
served and  retired  conduct  which  the  Prince  thought  proper  to 
adopt,  has  not  shaken  my  opinion  of  the  wisdom  which  prompted 
him  to  that  determination.  But  here,  again,  I declare,  that  I 
must  reject  the  presumption  that  any  suggestion  of  mine  led  to 
the  rule  which  the  Prince  had  prescribed  to  himself.  My  know- 
ledge of  it  being,  as  I before  said,  the  communication  of  a reso- 
lution formed  on  the  part  of  His  Royal  Highness,  and  not  of  a 
proposition  awaiting  the  advice,  countenance,  or  corroboration,  of 
any  other  person.  Having  thought  it  necessary  to  premise  thus 
much,  as  I wish  to  write  to  you  without  reserve  or  concealment 
of  any  sort,  I shall  as  briefly  as  I can  relate  the  facts  which  at- 
tended the  corhposing  the  Answer  itself,  as  far  as  I was  con- 
cerned. 

“ On  Sunday,  or  on  Monday  the  7th  instant,  I mentioned  to 
Lord  Moira,  or  to  Adam,  that  the  Address  of  the  two  Houses 
would  come  very  quickly  upon  the  Prince,  and  that  he  should 
be  prepared  with  his  Answer,  without  entertaining  the  least  idea 
of  meddling  with  the  subject  myself,  having  received  no  autho- 
rity from  His  Royal  Highness  to  do  so.  Either  Lord  Moira  or 
Adam  informed  me,  before  I left  Carlton-House,  that  His  Royal 
Highness  had  directed  Lord  Moira  to  sketch  an  outline  of  the 
Answer  proposed,  and  I left  town.  On  Tuesday  evening  it 
occurred  to  me  to  try  at  a sketch  also  of  the  intended  reply. 
On  Wednesday  morning  I read  it,  at  Carlton-House,  very  hastily 
to  Adam,  before  I saw  the  Prince.  And  here  I must  pause  to 
declare,  that  I have  entirely  withdrawn  from  my  mind  any  doubt, 
if  for  a moment  I ever  entertained  any,  of  the  perfect  propriety 


278 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


of  Adam’s  conduct  at  that  hurried  mterview ; being  also  long 
convinced,  as  well  from  intercourse  with  him  at  Carlton-House 
as  in  every  transaction  I have  witnessed,  that  it  is  impossible  for 
him  to  act  otherwise  than  with  the  most  entire  sincerity  and 
honor  towards  all  he  deals  with.  I then  read  the  Paper  I had 
put  together  to  the  Prince, — the  most  essential  part  of  it  literally 
consisting  of  sentiments  and  expressions,  which  had  fallen  from 
the  Prince  himself  in  different  conversations ; and  I read  it  to  him 
without  having  once  heard  Lord  Grenville’s  name  even  mentioned 
as  in  any  way  connected  with  the  Answer  proposed  to  be  sub- 
mitted to  the  Prince.  On  the  contrary,  indeed,  I was  under  an 
impression  that  the  framing  this  Answer  was  considered  as  the 
single  act  which  it  would  be  an  unfair  and  embarrassing  task  to 
require  the  performance  of  from  Lord  Grenville.  The  Prince 
approved  the  Paper  I read  to  him,  objecting,  however,  to  some 
additional  paragraphs  of  my  own,  and  altering  others.  In  the 
course  of  his  observations,  he  cursorily  mentioned  that  Lord 
Grenville  had  undertaken  to  sketch  out  his  idea  of  a proper 
Answer,  and  that  Lord  Moira  had  done  the  same, — evidently 
expressing  himself,  to  my  apprehension,  as  not  considering  the 
framing  of  this  Answer  as  a matter  of  official  responsibility  any 
where,  but  that  it  was  his  intention  to  take  the  choice  and  deci- 
sion respecting  it  on  himself.  If,  however,  I had  knowm,  before  I 
entered  the  Prince’s  apartment,  that  Lord  Grenville  and  Lord 
Grey  had  in  any  way  undertaken  to  frame  the  Answer,  and  had 
thought  themselves  authorized  to  do  so,  I protest  the  Prince 
would  never  even  have  heard  of  the  draft  which  I had  prepared, 
though  containing,  as  I before  said,  the  Prince’s  own  ideas. 

“ His  Royal  Highness  having  laid  his  commands  on  Adam 
and  me  to  dine  with  him  alone  on  the  next  day,  Thursday,  I then, 
for  the  first  time,  learnt  that  Lord  Grey  and  Lord  Grenville  had 
transmitted,  through  Adam,  a formal  draft  of  an  Answer  to  be 
submitted  to  the  Prince. 

“ Under  these  circumstances  I thought  it  became  me  humbly 
to  request  the  Prince  not  to  refer  to  me,  in  any  respect,  the 
Paper  of  the  Noble  Lords,  oi  to  insist  even  on  my  hearing  its 


KIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  279 


contents ; but  that  I might  be  permitted  to  put  the  draft  he  had 
received  from  me  into  the  fire.  The  Prince,  however,  who  had 
read  the  Noble  Lords'  Paper,  declining  to  hear  of  this,  proceeded 
to  state,  how  strongly  he  objected  to  almost  every  part  of  it. 
The  draft  delivered  by  Adam  he  took  a copy  of  himself,  as  Mr. 
Adam  read  it,  affixing  shortly,  but  warmly,  his  comments  to  each 
paragi’aph.  Finding  His  Royal  Highness’s  objections  to  the 
whole  radical  and  insuperable,  and  seeing  no  means  myself  by 
which  the  Noble  Lords  could  change  their  draft,  so  as  to  meet 
the  Prince’s  ideas,  I ventured  to  propose,  as  the  only  expedient 
of  which  the  time  allowed,  that  both  the  Papers  should  be  laid 
aside,  and  that  a very  short  Answer,  indeed,  keeping  clear  of  all 
topics  liable  to  disagreement,  should  be  immediately  sketched 
out  and  be  submitted  that  night  to  the  judgment  of  Lord  Grey 
and  Lord  Grenville.  The  lateness  of  the  hour  prevented  any  but 
very  hasty  discussion,  and  Adam  and  myself  proceeded,  by  His 
Royal  Highness’s  orders,  to  your  house  to  relate  what  had  passed 
to  Lord  Grey.  I do  not  mean  to  disguise,  however,  that  when  I 
found  myself  bound  to  give  my  opinion,  I did  fully  assent  to  the 
force  and  justice  of  the  Prince’s  objections,  and  made  other  ob- 
servations of  my  own,  which  I thought  it  my  duty  to  do,  con- 
ceiving, as  I freely  said,  that  the  Paper  could  not  have  been 
drawn  up  but  under  the  pressure  of  embarrassing  difficulties,  and, 
as  I conceived  also,  in  considerable  haste. 

“ Before  we  left  Carlton-House,  it  was  agreed  between  Adam 
and  myself  that  we  were  not  so  strictly  enjoined  by  the  Prince, 
as  to  make  it  necessary  for  us  to  communicate  to  the  Noble 
Lords  the  marginal  comments  of  the  Prince,  and  we  determined 
to  withhold  them.  But  at  the  meeting  with  Lord  Grey,  at  your 
house,  he  appeared  to  me,  erroneously  perhaps,  to  decline  con- 
sidering the  objections  as  coming  from  the  Prince,  but  as  origi- 
nating in  my  suggestions.  Upon  this,  I certainly  called  on  Adam 
to  produce  the  Prince’s  copy,  with  his  notes,  in  His  Royal  High- 
ness’s own  hand- writing. 

“ Afterwards,  finding  myself  considerably  hurt  at  an  expres- 
sion of  Lord  Grey’s,  which  could  only  be  pointed  at  me,  and 


280 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


which  expressed  his  opinion  that  the  whole  of  the  Paper,  which 
he  assumed  me  to  be  responsible  for,  was  ‘ drawn  up  in  an 
invidious  spirit,’  I certainly  did,  with  more  warmth  than  was, 
perhaps,  discreet,  comme.it  on  the  Paper  proposed  to  be  substi- 
tuted ; and  there  ended,  with  no  good  effect,  our  interview. 

“ Adam  and  I saw  the  Prince  again  that  night,  when  His  Royal 
Highness  was  graciously  pleased  to  meet  our  joint  and  earnest 
request,  by  striking  out  from  the  draft  of  the  Answer,  to  which 
he  still  resolved  to  adhere,  every  passage  which  we  conceived  to 
be  most  liable  to  objection  on  the  part  of  Lord  Grey  and  Lord 
Grenville. 

“ On  the  next  morning,  Friday, — a short  time  before  he  was 
to  receive  the  Address, — when  Adam  returned  from  the  Noble 
Lords,  with  their  expressed  disclaimer  of  the  preferred  Answer, 
altered  as  it  was,  His  Royal  Highness  still  persevered  to  eradi- 
cate every  remaining  word  which  he  thought  might  yet  appear 
exceptionable  to  them,  and  made  further  alterations,  although 
the  fair  copy  of  the  paper  had  been  made  out. 

“ Thus  the  Answer,  nearly  reduced  to  the  expression  of  the 
Prince’s  own  suggestions-,  and  without  an  opportunity  of  farther 
meeting  the  wishes  of  the  Noble  Lords,  was  delivered  by  His 
Royal  Highness,  and  presented  by  the  Deputa^tion  qf  the  two 
Houses. 

“ I am  ashamed  to  have  been  thus  prolix  and  circumstantial, 
upon  a matter  which  .may  appear  to  have  admitted  of  much 
shorter  explanation ; but  when  misconception  has  produced  dis- 
trust among  those,  I hope,  not  willingly  disposed  to  differ,  and, 
who  can  have,  I equally  trust,  but  one  common  object  in  view 
in  their  different  stations,  I know  no  better  way  than  by  minute- 
ness and  accuracy  of  detail  to  remove  whatever  may  have  ap- 
peared doubtful  in  conduct,  while  unexplained,  or  inconsistent  in 
principle  not  clearly  re-asserted. 

‘‘  And  now,  my  dear  Lord,  I have  only  shortly  to  express  my 
own  personal  mortification,  I will  use  no  other  word,  that  I should 
have  been  considered  by  any  persons  however  high  in  rank,  or 
iiLstly  entitled  to  high  political  pretensions^  as  one  so  Jittle 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  281 


' attached  to  His  Royal  Highness,’  or  so  ignorant  of  the  value 
‘ of  the  Constitution  of  his  country,’  as  to  be  held  out  to  Him, 
whose  fairly-earned  esteem  I regard  as  the  first  honor  and  the 
sole  reward  of  my  political  life,  in  the  character  of  an  interested 
contriver  of  a double  government,  and,  in  some  measure,  as  an 
apostate  from  all  my  former  principles, — which  have  taught  me, 
as  well  as  the  Noble  Lords,  that  ‘ the  maintenance  of  constitu- 
tional responsibility  in  the  ministers  of  the  Crown  is  essential  to 
any  hope  of  success  in  the  administration  of  the  public  interest.’ 
“At  the  same  time,  I am  most  ready  to  admit  that  it  could 
not  be  their  intention  so  to  characterize  me ; but  it  is  the  direct 
inference  which  others  must  gather  from  the  first  paragraph  I have 
quoted  from  their  Representation,  and  an  inference  which,  I under- 
stand, has  already  been  raised  in  public  opinion.  A departure,  my 
dear  Lord,  on  my  part,  from  upholding  the  principle  declared  by 
the  Noble  Lords,  much  more  a presumptuous  and  certainly  in- 
effectual attempt  to  inculcate  a contrary  doctrine  on  the  mind  of 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  would,  I am  confident,  lose  me  every  particle 
of  his  favor  and  confidence  at  once  and  for  ever.  But  I am  yet 
to  learn  what  part  of  my  past  public  life, — and  I challenge  ob- 
servation on  every  part  of  m.y  present  proceedings, — has  war- 
ranted the  adoption  of  any  such  suspicion  of  me,  or  the  expression 
of  any  such  imputation  against  me.  But  I will  dwell  no  longer 
on  this  point,  as  it  relates  only  to  my  own  feelings  and  character ; 
which,  however,  I am  the  more  bound  to  consider,  as  others,  in 
my  humble  judgment,  have  so  hastily  disregarded  both.  At  the 
same  time,  I do  sincerely  declare,  that  no  personal  disappoint- 
ment in  my  own  mind  interferes  with  the  respect  and  esteem  I 
entertain  for  Lord  Grenville,  or  in  addition  to  those  sentiments, 
the  friendly  regard  I owe  to  Lord  Grey.  To  Lord  Grenville  1 
have  the  honor  to  be  but  very  little  personally  known.  From 
Lord  Grey,  intimately  acquainted  as  he  was  with  every  circum- 
stance of  my  conduct  and  principles  in  the  years  1788-9,  I con- 
fess I should  have  expected  a very  tardy  and  reluctant  interpre- 
tation of  any  circumstance  to  my  disadvantage.  What  the 
nature  of  my  endeavors  were  at  that  time,  I have  the  writtfi) 


282 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


testimonies  of  Mr.  Fox  and  the  Duke  of  Portland.  To  jou  I 
know  those  testimonies  are  not  necessary,  and  perhaps  it  has  been 
my  recollection  of  what  passed  in  those  times  that  may  have  led 
me  too  securely  to  conceive  myself  above  the  reach  even  of  a 
suspicion  that  I could  adopt  different  principles  now.  Such  as 
they  were  they  remain  untouched  and  unaltered.  I conclude 
with  sincerely  declaring,  that  to  see  the  Prince  meeting  the  re- 
ward which  his  own  honorable  nature,  his  kind  and  generous 
disposition,  and  his  genuine  devotion  to  the  true  objects  of  our 
free  Constitution  so  well  entitle  him  to,  by  being  surrounded  and 
supported  by  an  Administration  affectionate  to  his  person,  and 
ambitious  of  gaining  and  meriting  his  entire  esteem,  (yet  tena- 
cious, above  all  things,  of  the  constitutional  principle,  that  exclu- 
sive confidence  must  attach  to  the  responsibility  of  those  whom 
he  selects  to  be  his  public  servants,)  I would  with  heartfelt  satis- 
faction rather  be  a looker  on  of  such  a Government,  giving  it 
such  humble  support  as  might  be  in  my  power,  than  be  the 
possessor  of  any  possible  situation  either  of  profit  or  ambition, 
to  be  obtained  by  any  indirectness,  or  by  the  slightest  departure 
from  the  principles  I have  always  professed,  and  which  I have 
now  felt  myself  in  a manner  called  upon  to  re-assert. 

‘‘  I have  only  to  add,  that  my  respect  for  the  Prince,  and  my 
sense  of  the  frankness  he  has  shown  towards  me  on  this  occasion, 
decide  me,  with  all  duty,  to  submit  this  letter  to  his  perusal,  be- 
fore I place  it  in  your  hands;  meaning  it  undoubtedly  to  be  by 
you  shown  to  those  to  whom  your  judgment  may  deem  it  of  any 
consequence  to  communicate  it. 

“ 1 have  the  honor  to  be,  &c. 

To  Lord  Holland,  (Signed)  E.  B.  Sheridan. 

‘‘Read  and  approved  by  the  Prince,  January  20, 1811. 

“R.  B.  S.” 

Though  this  Statement,  it  must  be  recollected,  exhibits  but 
one  side  of  the  question,  and  is  silent  as  to  the  part  that  Sheridan 
took  after  the  delivery  of  the  Remonstrance  of  the  tw'o  noble 
J^ords,  jy^et,  combined  with  preceding  events  and  with  the  insight 


EIGHT  KON.  EICHAED  BKINSLEY  SHEEIDAN.  283 


into  motives  which  they  afford,  it  may  sufficiently  enable  the 
reader  to  form  his  own  judgment,  with  respect  to  the  conduct  of 
the  different  persons  concerned  in  the  transaction.  With  the 
better  and  more  ostensible  motives  of  Sheridan,  there  was,  no 
doubt,  some  mixture  of,  what  the  Platonists  call,  “ the  material 
alluvion”  of  our  nature.  His  political  repugnance  to  the  Co- 
alesced Leaders  would  have  been  less  strong  but  for  the  personal 
feelings  that  mingled  with  it ; and  his  anxiety  that  the  Prince 
should  not  be  dictated  to  by  others  was  at  le^ast  equalled  by  his 
vanity  in  showing  that  he  could  govern  him  himself.  But,  whatever 
were  the  precise  views  that  impelled  him  to  this  trial  of  strength, 
the  victory  which  he  gained  in  it  was  far  more  extensive  than  he 
himself  had  either  foreseen  or  wished.  He  had  meant  the  party 
to  feel  his  power, — not  to  sink  under  it.  Though  privately 
alienated  from  them,  on  personal  as  well  as  political  grounds,  he 
knew  that,  publicly  he  was  too  much  identified  with  their  ranks, 
ever  to  serve,  with  credit  or  consistency,  in  any  other.  He  had, 
therefore,  in  the  ardor  of  undermining,  carried  the  ground  from 
beneath  his  own  feet.  In  helping  to  disband  his  party,  he  had 
cashiered  himself ; and  there  remained  to  him  now,  for  the 
residue  of  his  days,  but  that  frailest  of  all  sublunary  treasures,  a 
Prince’s  friendship. 

With  this  conviction,  (which,  in  spite  of  all  the  sanguineiiess 
of  his  disposition,  could  hardly  have  failed  to  force  itself  on  his 
mind,)  it  was  not,  we  should  think,  with  very  self-gratulatory 
feelings  that  he  undertook  the  task,  a few  weeks  after,  of  indit- 
ing, for  the  Regent,  that  memorable  Letter  to  Mr.  Perceval, 
which  sealed  the  fate  at  once  both  of  his  party  and  himself,  and 
whatever  false  signs  of  re-animation  may  afterwards  have  ap 
peared,  severed  the  last  life-lock  by  which  the  strugglmg  spirit”* 
of  this  friendship  between  Royalty  and  Whiggism  still  held  : — 

dp-xtr a crinem  secaty  omnis  et  una 

Dilapsus  color,  atque  in  ventos  vita  recessitJ^ 

With  respect  to  the  chief  Personage  connected  with  thestj 

* anijm'. 


284 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


transactions,  it  is  a proof  of  the  tendency  of  knowledge,  to  pro- 
duce a spirit  of  tolerance,  that  they  who,  judging  merely  from 
the  surface  of  events,  have  been  most  forward  in  reprobating  his 
separation  from  the  Whigs,  as  a rupture  of  political  ties  and  an 
abandonment  of  private  friendships,  must,  on  becoming  more 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  all  the  circumstances  that  led  to  this 
crisis,  learn  to  soften  down  considerably  their  angry  feelings ; 
and  to  see,  indeed,  in  the  whole  history  of  the  connection, — from 
its  first  formation,  in  the  hey-day  of  youth  and  party,  to  its  faint 
survival  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Fox, — but  a natural  and  destined 
gradation  towards  the  result  at  which  it  at  last  arrived,  after  as 
much  fluctuation  of  political  principle,  on  one  side,  as  there  was 
of  indifference,  perhaps,  to  all  political  principle  on  the  other. 

Among  the  arrangements  that  had  been  made,  in  contempla- 
tion of  a new  Ministry,  at  this  time,  it  w'as  intended  that  Lord 
Moira  should  go,  as  Lord  Lieutenant,  to  Ireland,  and  that  Mr. 
Sheridan  should  accompany  him,  as  Chief  Secretary. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  285 


CHAPTEE  XL 

AFFAIRS  OF  THE  NEW  THEATRE. — MR.  WHITBREAD. — 
NEGC  TIATIONS  WITH  LORD  GREY  AND  LORD  GREN- 
VILLE.-— CONDUCT  OF  MR.  SHERIDAN  RELATIVE  TO  THE 
HOUSEHOLD.  — HIS  LAST  WORDS  IN  PARLIAMENT. — 
FAILURE  AT  STAFFORD. — CORRESPONDENCE  WITH  MR. 
WHITBREAD. — £oRD  BYRON. — DISTRESSES  OF  SHERIDAN. 
— ILLNESS. — DEATH  AND  FUNERAL. — GENERAL  RE- 
MARKS. 

It  was  not  till  the  close  of  this  year  that  the  Reports  of  the 
Committee  appointed  under  the  Act  for  rebuilding  the  Theatre 
of  Drury-Lane,  were  laid  before  the  public.  By  these  it  appeared 
that  Sheridan  was  to  receive,  for  his  moiety  of  the  property, 
24,000/.,  out  of  which  sum  the  claims  of  the  Linley  family  and 
others  were  to  be  satisfied  ; — that  a further  sum  of  4000/.  was  to 
be  paid  to  him  for  the  property  of  the  Fruit  Offices  and  Rever- 
sion of  Boxes  and  Shares; — and  that  his  son,  Mr.  Thomas 
Sheridan,  was  to  receive,  for  his  quarter  of  the  Patent  Property, 
12,000/. 

The  gratitude  that  Sheridan  felt  to  Mr.  Whitbread  at  first,  for 
the  kindness  with  which  he  undertook  this  most  arduous  task, 
did  not  long  remain  unembittered  when  they  entered  into  prac- 
tical details.  It  would  be  difficult  indeed  to  find  two  persons 
less  likely  to  agree  in  a transaction  of  this  nature, — the  one,  in 
affairs  of  business,  approaching  almost  as  near  to  the  extreme  of 
rigor  as  the  other  to  that  of  laxity. . While  Sheridan,  too, — like 
those  painters,  who  endeavor  to  disguise  their  ignorance  of  anat- 
omy by  an  indistinct  and  furzy  outline, — had  an  imposing  method 
of  generalizing  his  accounts  and  statements,  which,  to  most  eyes, 


286 


MEMOitlS  OF  ms  LIFE  OF  THg 


concealed  the  negligence  and  fallacy  of  the  details,  Mr.  Whit 
bread,  on  the  contrary,  with  an  unrelenting  accuracy,  laid  open 
the  minutiae  of  every  transaction,  and  made  evasion  as  impossible 
to  others,  as  it  was  alien  and  inconceivable  to  himself.  He  was, 
perhaps,  the  only  person,  whom  Sheridan  had  ever  found  proof 
against  his  powers  of  persuasion, — and  this  rigidity  naturally 
mortified  his  pride  full  as  much  as  it  thwarted  and  disconcerted 
his  views. 

Among  the  conditions  to  which  he  agreed,  in  order  to  facilitate 
the  arrangements  of  the  Committee,  the  most  painful  to  him  was 
that  which  stipulated  that  he,  himself,  should  “ have  no  concern 
or  connection,  of  any  kind  whatever,  with  the  new  undertaking.” 
This  concession,  however,  he,  at  first,  regained  as  a mere  matter 
of  form — feeling  confident  that,  even  without  any  effort  of  his 
own,  the  necessity  under  which  the  new  Committee  would  find 
themselves  of  recurring  to  his  advice  and  assistance,  would,  ere 
long,  reinstate  him  in  all  his  former  influence.  But  in  this  hope 
he  was  disappointed — his  exclusion  from  all  concern  in  the  new 
Theatre,  (which,  it  is  said,  was  made  a sine-qua-non  by  all  who 
embarked  in  it,)  was  inexorably  enforced  by  Whitbread;  and 
the  following  letter  addressed  by  him  to  the  latter  will  show  the 
state  of  their  respective  feelings  on  this  point : — 

“My  dear  Whitbread, 

“ I am  not  going  to  write  you  a controversial  or  even  an  argu- 
mentative letter,  but  simply  to  put  down  the  heads  of  a few 
matters  which  I wish  shortly  to  converse  with  you  upon,  in  the 
most  amicable  and  temperate  manner,  deprecating  the  im 
patience  which  may  sometimes  have  mixed  in  our  discussions 
and  not  contending  who  has  been  the  aggressor. 

“ The  main  point  you  seem  to  have  had  so  much  at  heart  you 
have  carried,  so  there  is  an  end  of  that ; and  I shall  as  fairly  and 
cordially  endeavor  to  advise  and  assist  Mr.  Benjamin  Wyatt  in 
the  improving  and  perfecting  his  plan  as  if  it  had  been  my  own 
preferable  selection,  assuming,  as  I must  do,  that  there  cannot 
exist  an  individual  in  England  so  presumptuous  or  so  void  of 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEIT  SHERIDAN.  28? 

common  sense  as  not  sincerely  to  solicit  the  aid  of  my  practical 
experience  on  this  occasion,  even  were  I not,  in  justice  to  the 
Subscribers,  bound  spontaneously  to  offer  it. 

“ But  it  would  be  unmanly  dissimulation  in  me  to  retain  the 
sentiments  I do  with  respect  to  your  doctrine  on  this  subject,  and 
not  express  what  I so  strongly  feel.  That  doctrine  was,  to  my 
utter  astonishment,  to  say  no  more,  first  promulgated  to  me  in 
a letter  from  you,  written  in  town,  in  the  following  terms. 
Speaking  of  building  and  plans,  you  say  to  me,  ‘ You  are  in  no 
way  answerable  if  a had  Theati'e  is  built : it  is  not  you  who  built 
it ; and  if  we  come  to  the  strict  right  of  the  thing ^ you  have  no 
BUSINESS  TO  INTERFERE  and  further  on  you  say,  ‘ Will  you 
but  STAND  ALOOF,  and  every  thing  will  go  smooth^  and  a good 
Theatre  shall  be  built and  in  conversation  you  put,  as  a simi- 
lar case,  that,  ‘ if  a man  sold  another  a piece  of  land^  it  was  no- 
thing to  the  seller  whether  the  purchaser  built  himself  a good  or  a 
bad  house  upon  iV  Now  I declare  before  God  I never  felt  more 
amazement  than  that  a man  of  your  powerful  intellect,  just  view 
of  all  subjects,  and  knowledge  of  the  world,  should  hold  such 
language  or  resort  to  such  arguments  ; and  I must  be  convinced, 
that,  although  in  an  impatient  moment  this  opinion  may  have 
fallen  from  you,  upon  the  least  reflection  or  the  slightest  attention 
to  the  reason  of  the  case,  you  would,  ‘ albeit  unused  to  the  re- 
tracting mood,’  confess  the  erroneous  view  you  had  taken  of  the 
subject.  Otherwise,  I must  think,  and  with  the  deepest  regret 
would  it  be,  that  although  you  originally  engaged  in  this  businesf? 
from  motives  of  the  purest  and  kindest  regard  for  me  and  my 
family,  your  ardor  and  zealous  eagerness  to  accomplish  the  diffi- 
cult task  you  had  undertaken  have  led  you,  in  this  instance,  to 
overlook  what  is  due  to  my  feelings,  to  my  honor,  and  my  just 
interests.  Por,  supposing  I were  to  ’‘stand  aloof ^ totally  uncon- 
cerned, provided  I were  paid  for  my  share,  whether  the  new 
Theatre  were  excellent  or  execrable,  and  that  the  result  should 
be  that  the  Subscribers,  instead  of  profit,  could  not,  through  the 
misconstruction  of  tne  house,  obtain  one  per  cent,  for  their  mo- 
ney, do  you  seriously  believe  you  could  find  a single  man,  wo- 


2o8  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

man,  or  child,  in  the  kingdom,  out  of  the  Committee,  who  would 
believe  that  I was  wholly  guiltless  of  the  failure,  having  been  so 
stultified  and  proscribed  by  the  Committee,  (a  Committee  of  my 
own  nomination^)  as  to  have  been  compelled  to  admit,  as  the 
condition  of  my  being  paid  for  my  share,  that  ‘ it  was  nothing  to 
me  whether  the  Theatre  was  good  or  bad  f or,  on  the  contrary 
can  it  be  denied  that  the  reproaches  of  disappointment,  through 
the  great  body  of  the  Subscribers,  would  be  directed  against  me 
and  me  alone  ? 

‘‘  So  much  as  to  character : — now  as  to  my  feelings  on  the 
subject ; — I must  say  that  in  friendship,  at  least,  if  not  in  ‘ strict 
right^  they  ought  to  be  consulted,  even  though  the  Committee 
could  either  prove  that  I had  not  to  apprehend  any  share  in  the 
discredit  and  discontent  which  might  follow  the  ill  success  of  their 
plan,  or  that  1 was  entitled  to  brave  whatever  malice  or  ignorance 
might  direct  against  me.  Next,  and  lastly,  as  to  my  just  inter- 
est  in  the  property  I am  to  part  with,  a consideration  to  which, 
however  careless  I might  be  were  I alone  concerned,  I am  bound 
to  attend  in  justice  to  my  own  private  creditors,  observe  how 
the  matter  stands  : — I agree  to  waive  my  own  ‘ strict  righf  to  be 
paid  before  the  funds  can  be  applied  to  the  building,  and  this  in 
the  confidence  and  on  the  continued  understanding,  that  my  ad- 
vice should  be  so  far  respected,  that,  even  should  the  subscrip- 
tion not  fill,  I should  at  least  see  a Theatre  capable  of  being 
charged  with  and  ultimately  of  discharging  what  should  remain 
justly  due  to  the  proprietors.  To  illustrate  this  I refer  to  the 
size  of  the  pit,  the  number  of  private  boxes,  and  the  annexation 
of  a tavern ; but  in  what  a situation  would  the  doctrine  of  your 
Committee  leave  me  and  my  son  ? . ‘ It  is  nothing  to  us  how  the 
Theatre  is  built,  or  whether  it  prospers  or  not.’  These  are  two 
circumstances  we  have  nothing  to  do  with ; only,  unfortunately, 
upon  them  may  depend  our  best  chance  of  receiving  any  pay- 
ment for  the  property  we  part  with.  It  is  nothing  to  us  how 
the  ship  is  refitted  or  manned,  only  we  must  leave  all  we  are 
worth  on  board  her,  and  abide  the  chance  of  her  success.  Now 
I am  confident  your  justice  will  see,  that  iu  order  that  the  Com 


MGHT  HON.  BiCHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  289 


Tnittee  should,  in  ‘strict  right^^  become  entitled  to  deal  thus 
with  us,  and  bid  us  stand  aloof ^ they  should  buy  us  out,  and 
make  good  the  payment.  But  the  reverse  of  this  has  been  my 
own  proposal,  and  I neither  repent  nor  wish  to  make  any 

ange  in  it. 

I have  totally  departed  from  my  intention,  when  I first  be- 
gan this  letter,  for  which  I ought  to  apologize  to  you ; but  it  may 
save  much  future  talk : other  less  important  matters  will  do  in 
conversation.  You  will  allow  that  I have  placed  in  you  the  most 
implicit  confidence — have  the  reasonable  trust  in  me  that,  in  any 
communication  I may  have  with  B.  Wyatt,  my  object  will  not  be 
to  obstruct^  as  you  have  hastily  expressed  it,  but  bond  fide  to  assist 
him  to  render  his  Theatre  as  perfect  as  possible,  as  well  with  a 
view  to  the  public  accommodation  as  to  profit  to  the  Subscribers ; 
neither  of  which  can  be  obtained  without  establishing  a repu- 
tation for  him  which  must  be  the  basis  of  his  future  fortune. 

“ And  now,  after  all  this  statement,  you  will  perhaps  be  sur- 
prised to  find  how  little  I require ; — simply  some  Resolution  of 
the  Committee  to  the  effect  of  that  I enclose. 

“I  conclude  with  heartily  thanking  you  for  the  declaration  you 
made  respecting  me,  and  reported  to  me  by  Peter  Moore,  at  the 
close  of  the  last  meeting  of  the  Committee.  I am  convinced  of 
your  sincerity ; but  as  I have  before  described  the  character  of 
the  gratitude  1 feel  towards  you  in  a letter  written  likewise  in 
this  house,  I have  only  to  say,  that  every  sentiment  in  that  letter 
remains  unabated  and  unalterable. 

“ Ever,  my  dear  Whitbread, 

“Yours,  faithfully. 

“ P.  S.  The  discussion  we  had  yesterday  respecting  some  invest i 
gation  of  the  which  I deem  so  essential  to  my  character  and 
to  my  peace  of  mind,  and  your  present  concurrence  with  me  on 
that  subject,  has  relieved  my  mind  from  great  anxiety,  though 
I cannot  but  still  think  the  better  opportunity  has  been  passed 
by.  One  word  more,  and  I release  you.  Tom  informed  me 
that  you  had  hinted  to  him  that  any  demands,  not  practicable  to 
be  settled  by  the  Committee,  must  fiill  on  the  proprietors.  M;y 

VOL.  II.  ' JR 


290  MEMOiliS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

resolution  is  to  take  all  such  on  myself,  and  to  leave  Tom’s  share 
untouched.” 

Another  concession,  which  Sheridan  himself  had  volunteered, 
namely,  the  postponement  of  his  right  of  being  paid  the  arrount 
of  his  claim,  till  after  the  Theatre  should  be  built,  was  also  a 
subject  of  much  acrimonious  discussion  between  the  two  friends, 

• — Sheridan  applying  to  this  condition  that  sort  of  lax  interpret- 
ation, which  would  have  left  him  the  credit  of  the  sacrifice  with- 
out its  inconvenience,  and  Whitbread,  with  a firmness  of  grasp, 
to  which,  unluckily,  the  other  had  been  unaccustomed  in  business, 
holding  him  to  the  strict  letter  of  his  voluntary  agreement  with 
the  Subscribers.  Never,  indeed,  was  there  a more  melancholy 
example  than  Sheridan  exhibited,  at  this  moment,  of  the  last, 
hard  struggle  of  pride  and  delicacy  against  the  most  deadly  foe 
of  both,  pecuniary  involvement, — which  thus  gathers  round  its 
victims,  fold  after  fold,  till  they  are  at  length  crushed  in  its  inex- 
tricable clasp. 

The  mere  likelihood  of  a sum  of  money  being  placed  at  his 
disposal  was  sufficient — like  the  “ bright  day  that  brings  forth  the 
adder  ” — to  call  into  life  the  activity  of  all  his  duns ; and  how 
liberally  he  made  the  fund  available  among  them,  appears  from 
the  following  letter  of  Whitbread,  addressed,  not  to  Sheridan 
himself,  but,  apparently,  (for  the  direction  is  wanting,)  to  some 
man  of  business  connected  with  him  : — 

“ My  dear  Sir, 

“ 1 had  determined  not  to  give  any  written  answer  to  the  note 
you  put  into  my  hands  yesterday  morning ; but  a further  peru- 
sal of 'it  leads  me  to  think  it  better  to  make  a statement  in 
writing,  why  I,  for  one,  cannot  comply  with  the  request  it  con- 
tains, and  to  repel  the  impression  which  appears  to  have  existed 
in  Mr.  Sheridan’s  mind  at  the  time  that  note  was  written.  He 
insinuates  that  to  some  postponement  of  his  interests,  by  the 
Committee,  is  owing  the  distressed  situation  in  which  he  is  im- 
fortunately  placed.  ^ 


lilGHT  HON.  KlCHAKt)  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  291 

“ Whatever  postponement  of  the  Interests  of  the  Proprietors 
may  ultimately  be  resorted  to,  as  matter  of  indispensable  neces- 
sity from  the  state  of  the  Subscription  Fund,  will  originate  in  the 
written  suggestion  of  Mr.  Sheridan  himself ; and,  in  certain  cir- 
cumstances, unless  such  latitude  were  allowed  on  his  part,  the 
execution  of  the  Act  could  not  have  been  attempted. 

“ At  present  there  is  no  postponement  of  his  interests, — but 
there  is  an  utter  impossibility  of  touching  the  Subscription  Fund 
at  all,  except  for  very  trifling  specifled  articles,  until  a supple- 
mentary Act  of  Parliament  shall  have  been  obtained. 

“ By  the  present  Act,  even  if  the  Subscription  were  full,  and 
no  impediments  existed  to  the  use  of  the  money,  the  Act  itself, 
and  the  incidental  expenses  of  plans,  surveys,  &c.,  are  first  to  be 
paid  for, — then  the  portion  of  Killegrew’s  Patent, — then  the 
claimants, — and  then  the  Proprietors.  Now  the  Act  is  not  paid 
for  : White  and  Martindale  are  not  paid ; and  not  one  single 
claimant  is  paid,  nor  can  any  one  of  them  he  paid,  until  we  have 
fresh  powers  and  additional  subscriptions. 

“ How  then  can  Mr.  Sheridan  attribute  to  any  postponement 
of  his  interests,  actually  made  by  the  Committee,  the  present 
condition  of  his  affairs  ? and  why  are  we  driven  to  these  obser- 
vations and  explanations  ? 

“We  cannot  but  all  deeply  lament  his  distress,  but  the  palli- 
ation he  proposes  it  is  not  in  our  power  to  give. 

“We  cannot  guarantee  Mr.  Hammersley  upon  the  fund 
coming  eventually  to  Mr.  Sheridan.  He  alludes  to  the  claims 
he  has  already  created  upon  that  fund.  He  must,,  besides, 
recollect  the  list  of  names  he  sent  to  me  some  time  ago,  of  per- 
sons to  whom  he  felt  himself  in  honor  bound  to  appropriate  to 
each  his  share  of  that  fund,  in  common  with  others  for  whose 
names  he  left  a blank,  and  who,  he  says  in  the  same  letter,  have 
written  engagements  from  him.  Besides,  he  has  communicated 
both  to  Mr.  Taylor  and  to  Mr.  Shaw,  through  me,  offers  to  im- 
pound the  whole  of  the  sum  to  answer  the  issue  of  the  unsettled 
demands  made  upon  him  by  those  gentlemen  respectively. 

“•How  then  can  we  guarantee  Mr.  Hammersley  in  the  pay 


m 


MEMOlilS  OP  l^HE  LIFE  OF  THE 


merit  of  any  sum  out  of  this  fund,  so  circumstanced?  Mr. 
Hammersley’s  possible  profits  are  prospective,  and  the  prospect 
remote.  I know  the  positive  losses  he  sustains,  and  the  sacrifices 
he  is  obliged  to  make  to  procure  the  chance  of  the  compromise 
he  is  willing  to  accept. 

“ Add  to  all  this,  that  we  are  still  struggling  with  difficulties 
wffiich  we  may  or  may  not  overcome ; that  those  difficulties  are 
greatly  increased  by  the  persons  whose  interest  and  duty  should 
equally  lead  them  to  give  us  every  facility  and  assistance  in  the 
labors  we  have  disinterestedly  undertaken,  and  are  determined 
faithfully  to  discharge.  If  we  fail  at  last,  from  whatever  cause, 
the  whole  vanishes. 

“ You  know,  my  dear  Sir,  that  I grieve  for  the  sad  state  of 
Mr.  Sheridan’s  affairs.  I would  contribute  my  mite  to  their 
temporary  relief,  if  it  would  be  acceptable ; but  as  one  of  the 
Committee,  intrusted  with  a public  fund,  I can  do  nothing.  I 
cannot  be  a party  to  any  claim  upon  Mr.  Hammersley ; and  I 
utterly  deny  that,  individually,  or  as  part  of  the  Committee,  any 
step  taken  by  me,  or  with  my  concurrence,  has  pressed  upon  the 
circumstances  of  Mr.  Sheridan. 

“ I am, 

“ My  dear  Sir, 

“ Faithfully  yours, 

“ Southill,  Bee,  19,  1811.  ‘‘Samuel  Whitbread.” 

A Dissolution  of  Parliament  being  expected  to  take  place,  Mr. 
Sheridan  again  turned  his  eyes  to  Stafford ; and,  in  spite  of  the 
estrangement  to  which  his  infidelities  at  Westminster  had  given 
rise,  saw  enough,  he  thought,  of  the  “ veterh  vestigia  flammoe’'’  to 
encourage  him  to  hope  for  a renewal  of  the  connection.  The 
following  letter  to  Sir  Oswald  Moseley  explains  his  views  and 
expectations  on  the  subject : — 

“ Dear  Sir  Oswald,  Cavendish- Square^  Nov,  29,  1811. 

“ Being  apprised  that  you  have  decided  to  decline  offering 
yoiirself  a candidate  for  Staffo7’d,  when  a future  election  may 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  293 

arrive, — a place  where  you  are  highly  esteemed,  and  where  every 
humble  service  in  my  power,  as  I have  before  declared  to  you, 
should  have  been  at  your  command, — I have  determined  to  ac- 
cept the  very  cordial  invitations  I have  received  from  old  friends 
in  that  quarter,  and,  (though  entirely  secure  of  my  seat  at  Ilches- 
ter,  and,  indeed,  even  of  the  second  seat  for  my  son,  through  the 
liberality  of  Sir  W.  Manners),  to  return  to  the  old  goal  from 
whence  I started  thirty-one  years  since  ! You  will  easily  see 
that  arrangements  at  Ilchester  may  be  made  towards  assisting 
me,  in  point  of  expense,  to  meet  any  opposition^  and,  in  that  re- 
spect^ nothing  will  be  wanting.  It  will,  I confess,  be  very  grati- 
fying to  me  to  be  again  elected  by  the  sons  of  those  wdio  chose  me 
in  the  year  eighty.^  and  adhered  to  me  so  stoutly  and  so  long. 
I think  I w^as  returned  for  Stafford  seven,  if  not  eight,  times,  in- 
cluding. tw^o  most  tough  and  expensive  contests ; and,  in  taking 
a temporary  leave  of  them  I am  sure  my  credit  must  stand 
well,  for  not  a shilling  did  I leave  unpaid.  I have  written  to  the 
Jerninghams,  who,  in  the  handsomest  manner,  have  ever  given 
me  their  w'armest  support;  and,  as  no  political  object  interests 
my  mind  so  much  as  the  Catholic  cause,  I have  no  doubt  that 
independent  of  their  personal  friendship,  I shall  receive  a continu- 
ation of  their  honorable  support.  I feel  it  to  be  no  presumption 
to  add,  that  other  respectable  interests  in  the  neighborhood  will 
be  with  me. 

“ I need  scarcely  add  my  sanguine  hope,  that  whatever  interest 
rests  with  you,  (which  ought  to  be  much),  will  also  be  in  my 
favor. 

“ I have  the  honor  to  be, 

“ With  great  esteem  and  regard. 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

“ R.  B.  Sheridan.” 

“ I mean  to  be  in  Stafford,  from  Lord  G.  Levison’s,  in  about 
a fortnight.” 

Among  a number  of  notes  addressed  to  his  former  constituents 
at  this  time,  (which  I find  w^ritten  in  his  neatest  hand,  as  if  in- 
lendei  to  be  sent),  is  this  cirious  one  : — 


294 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


“Dear  King  John,  Cavendish- Square,  Sunday  night. 

“ J shall  be  in  Stafford  in  the  course  of  next  week,  and  if  Your 
Majesty  does  not  renew  our  old  alliance  I shall  never  again  have- 
faith  in  any  potentate  on  earth. 

“ Yours  very  sincerely, 

“ Mr.  John  K.  “ R.  B.  Sheridan.” 

The  two  attempts  that  were  made  in  the  course  of  the  year 
1812 — the  one,  on  the  cessation  of  the  Regency  Restrictions, 
and  the  other  after  the  assassination  of  Mr.  Perceval, — to  bring 
the  Whigs  into  official  relations  with  the  Court,  were,  it  is  evi- 
dent, but  little  inspired  on  either  side,  with  the  feelings  likely  to- 
lead  to  such  a result.  It  requires  but  a perusal  of  the  published 
correspondence  in  both  cases  to  convince  us  that,  at  the  bottom 
of  all  these  evolutions  of  negotiation,  there  was  anything  but  a 
sincere  wish  that  the  object  to  which  they  related  should  be  ac- 
complished. The  Marechal  Bassompiere  was  not  more  afraid  of 
succeeding  in  his  warfare,  when  he  said,  ’’Me  crois  que  nous  se- 
rous assez  foils  pour  prendre  la  Rochelle  f than  was  one  of  the 
parties,  at  least,  in  these  negotiations,  of  any  favorable  turn  that 
might  inflict  success  upon  its  overtures.  Even  where  the  Court, 
as  in  the  contested  point  of  the  Household,  professed  its  readi- 
ness to  accede  to  the  surrender  so  injudiciously  demanded  of  it, 
those  who  acted  as  its  discretionary  organs  knew  too  well  the 
real  wishes  in  that  quarter,  and  had  been  too  long  and  faithfully 
zealous  in  their  devotion  to  those  wishes  to  leave  any  fear  that 
advantage  would  be  taken  of  the  concession.  But,  however  high 
and  chivalrous  was  the  feeling  with  which  Lord  Moira,  on  this 
occasion,  threw  himself  into  the  breach  for  his  Royal  Master,  the 
service  of  Sheridan,  though  flowing  partly  from  the  same  zeal, 
was  not,  I grieve  to  say,  of  the  same  clear  and  honorable  char- 
acter. 

Lord  Yarmouth,  it  is  well  known,  stated  in  the  House  of 
Commons  that  he  had  communicated  to  Mr.  Sheridan  the  inten- 
tion of  the  Household  to  resign,  with  the  view  of  having  that  in 
lention  conveyed  to  Lord  Gref  and  Lord  Grenville,  and  thus  re- 


KIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  295 

moving  the  sole  ground  upon  which  these  Noble  Lords  objected  to 
the  acceptance  of  office.  Not  only,  however,  did  Sheridan  endeavor 
l6  dissuade  the  Noble  Vice-Chamberlain  from  resigning,  but 
with  an  unfairness  of  dealing  which  admits,  I own,  of  no  vidica- 
tion,  he  withheld  from  the  two  leaders  of  Opposition  the  intelli- 
gence thus  meant  to  be  conveyed  to  them  ; and,  when  questioned 
by  Mr.  Tierney  as  to  the  rumored  intentions  of  the  Household 
to  resign,  offered  to  bet  five  hundred  guineas  that  there  was  no 
such  step  in  contemplation. 

In  this  conduct,  which  he  made  but  a feeble  attempt  to  ex- 
plain, and  which  I consider  as  the  only  indefensible  part  of  his 
whole  public  life,  he  was,  in  some  degree,  no  doubt,  influenced 
by  personal  feelings  against  the  two  Noble  Lords,  whom  his 
want  of  fairness  on  the  occasion  was  so  well  calculated  to  thvrart 
and  embarrass.  But  the  main  motive  of  the  whole  proceeding 
is  to  be  found  in  his  devoted  deference  to  what  he  knew  to  be 
the  wishes  and  feelings  of  that  Personage,  who  had  become  now, 
more  than  ever,  the  mainspring  of  all  his  movements, — whose 
spell  over  him,  in  this  instance,  was  too  strong  for  even  his 
sense  of  character ; and  to  whom  he  might  well  have  applied  the 
words  of  one  of  his  own  beautiful  songs — 

Friends,  fortune,  fame  itself  I’d  lose, 

To  gain  one  smile  from  thee !” 

So  fatal,  too  often,  are  Royal  friendships,  whose  attraction, 
like  the  loadstone-rock  in  Eastern  fable,  that  drew  the  nails  out 
of  the  luckless  ship  that  came  near  it,  steals  gradually  away  the 
strength  by  which  character  is  held  together,  till,  at  last,  it 
loosens  at  all  points,  and  falls  to  pieces,  a wreck ! 

In  proof  of  the  fettering  influence  under  which  he  acted  on  this 
occasion,  we  find  him  in  one  of  his  evasive  attempts  at  vindica- 
tion, suppressing,  from  delicacy  to  his  Royal  Master,  a circum- 
stance which,  if  mentioned,  would  have  redounded  considerably 
to  his  own  credit.  After  mentioning  that  the  Regent  had 
“asked  his  opinion  with  respect  to  the  negotiations  that  were 
going  on,”  he  adds,  “ I gave  him  my  opinion,  and  I most  de 


296 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


voutly  wish  that  that  opinion  could  be  published  to  the  world, 
that  it  might  serve  to  shame  those  who  now  belie  Trie.” 

The  following'  is  the  fact  to  which  these  expressions  allude. 
When  the  Prince-Regent,  on  the  death  of  Mr.  Perceval,  entrust- 
ed to  Lord  Wellesley  the  task  cf  forming  an  Administration,  it 
appears  that  His  Royal  Highness  had  signified  either  his  inten- 
tion or  wish  to  exclude  a certain  Noble  Earl  from  the  arrange- 
ments to  be  made  under  that  commission.  On  learning  this, 
Sheridan  not  only  expressed  strongly  his  opinion  against  such  a 
step,  but  having,  afterwards,  reason  to  fear  that  the  freedom 
with  which  he  spoke  on  the  subject  had  been  displeasing  to  the 
Regent,  he  addressed  a letter  to  that  Illustrious  Person,  (a  copy 
of  which  1 have  in  my  possession,)  in  which,  after  praising  the 
“ wisdom  and  magnanimity”  displayed  by  his  His  Royal  High 
ness,  in  confiding  to  Lord  Wellesley  the  powers  that  had  just 
been  entrusted  to  him,  he  repeated  his  opinion  that  any  “ pro- 
scription” of  the  Noble  Earl  in  question,  would  be  ‘‘a  proceed- 
ing equally  derogatory  to  the  estimation  of  His  Royal  Highness’s 
personal  dignity  and  the  security  of  his  political  power — add- 
ing, that  the  advice,  which  he  toolc  the  liberty  of  giving  against 
such  a step,  did  not  proceed  “ from  any  peculiar  partiality  to  the 
Noble  Earl  or  to  many  of  those  with  wEom  he  was  allied ; but 
was  founded  on  wEat  he  considered  to  be  best  for  His  Royal 
Highness’s  honor  and  interest,  and  for  the  general  interests  of  the 
country.” 

The  letter  (in  alluding  to  the  displeasure  which  he  feared  he 
had  incurred  by  venturing  this  opinion)  concludes  thus : — 

“ Junius  said  in  a public  letter  of  his,  addressed  to  Your  Royal 
Father,  ‘ the  fate  that  made  you  a King  forbad  your  having  a 
friend.’  I deny  his  proposition  as  a general  maxim — I am  con- 
fident that  Your  Royal  Highness  possesses  qualities  to  win  and 
secure  to  you  the  attachment  and  devotion  of  private  friendship, 
in  spite  of  your  being  a Sovereign.  At  least  I feel  that  I am 
entitled  to  make  this  declaration  as  far  as  relates  to  myself — 
and  I do  it  under  the  assured  convi  )tion  that  '^oii  wdll  never  re 


PvIGHT  HON.  RICKARD  BRIKSLEY  SHERIDAN.  297 


quiie  fiom  me  any  proof  of  that  attachment  and  devotion  incon 
sistent  with  the  clear  and  honorable  independence  of  mind  and 
conduct,  which  constitute  my  sole  value  as  a public  man,  and 
which  have  hitherto  been  my  best  recommendation  to  your 
gracious  favor,  confidence,  and  protection.” 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  while  by  this  wise  advice  he  helped 
to  save  His  Royal  Master  from  the  invidious  appearance  of  acting 
upon  a principle  of  exclusion,  he  should,  by  his  private  manage- 
ment afterwards,  have  but  too  well  contrived  to  secure  to  him 
all  the  advantage  of  that  principle  in  reality. 

The  political  career  of  Sheridan  was  now  drawing  fast  to  a close. 
He  spoke  but  upon  two  or  three  other  occasions  during  the  Ses- 
sion ; and  among  the  last  sentences  uttered  by  him  in  the  House 
were  the  following; — which,  as  calculated  to  leave  a sweeter 
flavor  on  the  memory,  at  parting,  than  those  questionable  trans- 
actions that  have  just  been  related,  I have  great  pleasure  in 
citing : — 

My  objection  to  the  present  Ministry,  is  that  they  are  avowedly  array- 
ed and  embodied  against  a principle, — that  of  concesssion  to  the  Catholics 
of  Ireland,— which  I think,  and  must  always  think,  essential  to  the  safety 
of  this  empire.  I will  never  give  my  vote  to  any  Administration  that  op- 
poses the  question  of  Catholic  Emancipation.  I will  not  consent  to  receive 
a furlough  upon  that  particular  question,  even  though  a Ministry  were  car- 
rying every  other  that  I wished.  In  fine,  I think  the  situation  of  Ireland  a 
paramount  consideration.  If  they  were  to  be  the  last  words  I should  ever 
iRter  in  this  House,  I should  say,  ‘ Be  just  to  Ireland,  as  you  value  your 
own  honor, — be  just  to  Ireland,  as  you  value  your  own  peace.^  ” 

His  very  last  words  in  Parliament,  on  his  own  motion  relative 
to  the  Overtures  of  Peace  from  France,  were  as  follow: — 

Yet  after  the  general  subjugation  and  ruin  of  Europe,  should  there 
ever  exist  an  independent  historian  to  record  the  awful  events  that  pro- 
duced this  universal  calamity,  let  that  historian  have  to  say, — ‘ Great  Bri- 
tain fell,  and  with  her  fell  all  the  best  securities  for  the  charities  of  human 
life,  for  the  power  and  honor,  the  fame,  the  glory,  and  the  liberties,  not 
only  of  herself  but  of  the  whole  civilized  world.’  ’ 

O" 


VOL.  II. 


298 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


In  the  month  of  September  following,  Parliament  was  dis. 
solved ; and,  presuming  upon  the  encouragement  which  he  had 
received  from  some  of  his  Stafford  friends,  he  again  tried  his 
chance  of  election  for  that  borough,  but  without  success.  This 
failure  he,  himself,  imputed,  as  will  be  seen  by  the  following  let- 
ter, to  the  refusal  of  Mr.  Whitbread  to  advance  him  2000Z.  out 
of  the  sum  due  to  him  by  the  Committee  for  his  share  of  the 
property  : — 

“Dear  Whitbread,  Coolers  Hotel.  Hov,  \^  1812. 

“ I was  misled  to  expect  you  in  town  the  beginning  of  last 
week,  but  being  positively  assured  that  you  will  arrive  to-mor- 
row, I have  declined  accompanying  Hester  into  Hampshire  as  I 
intended,  and  she  has  gone  to-day  without  me ; but  I must  leave 
town  to  join  her  as  soon  as  I can.  We  must  have  some  serious 
but  yet,  I hope,  friendly  conversation  respecting  my  unsettled 
claims  on  the  Drury-Lane  Theatre  Corporation.  A concluding 
paragraph,  in  one  of  your  last  letters  to  Burgess,  which  he 
thought  himself  justified  in  showing  me,  leads  me  to  believe  that 
it  is  not  your  object  to  distress  or  destroy  me.  On  the  subject 
of  your  refusing  to  advance  to  me  the  2000Z.  I applied  for  to 
take  with  me  to  Stafford,  out  of  the  large  sum  confessedly  due 
to  rne,  (unless  I signed  some  paper  containing  I know  not  what, 
and  which  you  presented  to  my  breast  like  a cocked  pistol  on 
the  last  day  I saw  you,)  I will  not  dwell.  This^  and  this  alone^ 
lost  me  my  election.  You  deceive  yourself  if  you  give  credit  to  any 
other  causes,  which  the  pride  of  my  friends  chose  tv.  attribute 
our  failure  to,  rather  than  confess  our  poverty,  I do  not  mean 
now  to  expostulate  with  you,  much  less  to  reproach  you,  but  sure 
I am  that  when  you  contemplate  the  positive  injustice  of  refusing 
me  the  accommodation  I required,  and  the  irreparable  injury 
that  refusal  has  cast  on  me,  overturning,  probably,  all  the  honor 
and  independence  of  what  remains  of  my  political  life,  you  will 
deeply  reproach  yourself 

“I  shall  make  an  application  to  the  Committee,  when  I hear 
you  have  appointed  one,  for  the  assistance  which  most  pressing 


BIGHT  HON.  BICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  299 


circumstances  now  compel  me  to  call  for ; and  all  I desire  is, 
through  a sincere  wish  that  our  friendship  may  not  be  interrupt- 
ed,  that  the  answer  to  that  application  may  proceed  from  a hom 
fide  Committee^  with  their  signatures^  testifying  their  decision. 

I am,  yet, 

“ Yours  very  sincerely, 

“ S.  Whitbread^  Esq.  ‘‘  R.  B.  Sheridan.” 

Notwithstanding  the  angry  feeling  which  is  expressed  in  this 
letter,  and  which  the  state  of  poor  Sheridan’s  mind,  goaded  as  he 
was  now  by  distress  and  disappointment,  may  well  excuse,  it  will 
be  seen  by  the  following  letter  from  Whitbread,  written  on  the 
very  eve  of  the  elections  in  September,  that  there  was  no  want  of 
inclination,  on  the  part  of  this  honorable  and  excellent  man,  to 
afford  assistance  to  his  friend, — but  that  the  duties  of  the  perplex- 
ing trust  which  he  had  undertaken  rendered  such  irregular  ad- 
vances as  Sheridan  required  impossible  : — 

My  dear  Sheridan, 

“We  will  not  enter  into  details,  although  you  are  quite  mis- 
taken in  them.  You  know  how  happy  I shall  be  to  propose  to 
the  Committee  to  agree  to  anything  practicable  ; and  you  may 
make  all  practicable,  if  you  will  have  resolution  to  look  at  the 
state  of  the  account  between  you  and  the  Committee,  and  agree 
to  the  mode  of  its  liquidation. 

“You  will  recollect  the  5000Z.  pledged  to  Peter  Moore  to  an- 
swer demands ; the  certificates  given  to  Giblet,  Ker,  Ironmonger, 
Cross,  and  Ilirdle,  five  each  at  your  request ; the  engagements 
given  to  Ellis  and  myself,  and  the  arrears  to  the  Linley  family. 
All  this  taken  into  consideration  will  leave  a large  balance  still 
payable  to  you.  Still  there  are  upon  that  balance  the  claims 
upon  you  by  Shaw,  Taylor,  and  Grubb,  for  all  of  which  you  have 
otfered  to  leave  the  whole  of  your  compensation  in  my  hands,  to 
abide  the  issue  of  arbitration. 

“ This  may  be  managed  by  your  agreeing  to  take  a consider- 
able portion  of  your  balance  in  bonds,  leaving  those  bonds  in 
trust  to  answer  the  events. 


300 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


‘‘  I shall  be  in  town  on  Monday  to  the  Committee^  and  will  be 
prepared  with  a sketch  of  the  state  of  your  account  with  the 
Committee,  and  with  the  mode  in  which  I think  it  would  be  pru- 
dent for  you  and  them  to  adjust  it ; which  if  you  will  agree  to, 
and  direct  the  conveyance  to  be  made  forthwith,  I will  undertake 
to  propose  the  advance  of  money  you  wish.  But  without  a clear 
arrangement,  as  a justification,  nothing  can  be  done. 

‘‘  I shall  be  in  Dover-Street  at  nine  o’clock,  and  be  there  and 
in  Drury-Lane  all  day.  The  Queen  comes,  but  the  day  is  not 
fixed.  The  election  will  occupy  me  after  Monday.  After  that 
is  over,  I hope  we  shall  see  you. 

‘‘  Yours  very  truly, 

“ Southill^  Sept,  25,  1812.  “ S.  Whitbread.” 

The  feeling  entertained  by  Sheridan  towards  the  Committee 
had  already  been  strongly  manifested  this  year  by  the  manner  in 
which  Mrs.  Sheridan  received  the  Resolution  passed  by  them, 
offering  her  the  use  of  a box  in  the  new  Theatre.  The  notes  of 
Whitbread  to  Mrs.  Sheridan  on  this  subject,  prove  how  anxious 
he  was  to  conciliate  the  wounded  feelings  of  his  friend : — 

My  dear  Esther, 

“ I have  delayed  sending  the  enclosed  Resolution  of  the  Drury- 
Lane  Committee  to  you,  because  I had  hoped  to  have  found  a 
moment  to  have  called  upon  you,  and  to  have  delivered  it  into 
your  hands.  But  I see  no  chance  of  that,  and  therefore  literally 
obey  my  instructions  in  writing  to  you. 

“ I had  great  pleasure  in  proposing  the  Resolution,  which  was 
cordially  and  unanimously  adopted.  I had  it  always  in  contem- 
plation,— but  to  have  proposed  it  earlier  would  have  been  im- 
proper. I hope  you  will  derive  much  amusement  from  your 
visits  to  the  Theatre,  and  that  you  and  all  of  your  name  will  ul- 
timately be  pleased  with  what  has  been  done.  I have  just  had  a 
most  satisfactory  letter  from  Tom  Sheridan. 

‘‘  I am, 

‘‘  My  dear  Esther, 

‘‘  Affoctionately  yours, 

Dover-Street^  July  4,  1812,  ‘‘Samuel  Whitbre adw’^ 


kIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEIT  SHERIDAN.  §61 


“My  dear  Esther, 

“ It  has  been  a great  mortification  and  disappointment  to  me, 
to  have  met  the  Committee  twice,  since  the  offer  of  the  use  of  a 
box  at  the  new  Theatre  was  made  to  you,  and  that  I have  not  had 
to  report  the  slightest  acknowledgment  from  you  in  return. 

“The  Committee  meet  again  to-morrow,  and  after  that  there 
will  be  no  meeting  for  some  time.  If  I shal  be  compelled  to  re- 
turn the  same  blank  answer  I have  hitherto  done,  the  inference 
drawn  will  naturally  be,  that  what  w^as  designed  by  himself,  who 
moved  it,  and  by  those  who  voted  it,  as  a gratifying  mark  of  at- 
tention to  Sheridan  through  you,  (as  the  most  gratifying  mode  of 
conveying  it.)  has,  for  some  unaccountable  reason,  been  mistaken 
and  is  declined. 

“ But  I shall  be  glad  to  know  before  to-morrow,  what  is  your 
determination  on  the  subject. 

“ I am,  dear  Esther, 

“ Affectionately  yours, 

Dover- Street^  July  12,  1812.  “ S.  Whitbread.” 

The  failure  of  Sheridan  at  Stafford  completed  his  ruin.  He 
was  now  excluded  both  from  the  Theatre  and  from  Parliament : 
— the  two  anchors  by  which  he  held  in  life  were  gone,  and  he  was 
left  a lonely  and  helpless  wreck  upon  the  waters.  The  Prince 
Regent  offered  to  bring  him  into  Parliament ; but  the  thought 
of  returning  to  that  scene  of  his  triumphs  and  his  freedom,  with 
the  Royal  owner’s  mark,  as  it  were,  upon  him,  was  more  than  he 
could  bear — and  he  declined  the  offer.  Indeed,  miserable  and 
insecure  as  his  life  was  now,  when  we  consider  the  public  humili- 
ations to  which  he  would  have  been  exposed,  between  his  ancient 
pledge  to  Whiggism  and  his  attachment  and  gratitude  to  Roy- 
alty, it  is  not  wonderful  that  he  should  have  preferred  even  the 
alternative  of  arrests  and  imprisonments  to  the  risk  of  bringing 
upon  his  political  name  any  further  tarnish  in  such  a struggle. 
Neither  could  his  talents  have  much  longer  continued  to  do  them- 
selves justice,  amid  the  pressure  of  such  cares,  and  the  increased 
indulgence  of  habits,  which,  as  is  usual,  gained  upon  him,  as  all 


802  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THH 

other  indulgences  vanished.  The  ancients,  we  are  told,  by  a sig 
nificant  device,  inscribed  on  the  wreaths  they  wore  at  banquets 
the  name  of  Minerva.  Unfortunately,  from  the  festal  wreath  of 
Sheridan  this  name  was  now  but  too  often  effaced ; and  the  same 
charm,  that  once  had  served  to  give  a quicker  flow  to  thought, 
was  now  employed  to  muddy  the  stream,  as  it  became  painful  to 
contemplate  what  was  at  the  bottom  of  it.  By  his  exclusion, 
therefore,  from  Parliament,  he  was,  perhaps,  seasonably  saved 
from  affording  to  that  ‘‘Polly,  which  loves  the  martyrdom  of 
Pame,”'^  the  spectacle  of  a great  mind,  not  only  surviving  itself, 
but,  like  the  champion  in  Berni,  continuing  the  combat  after  life 
is  gone : — 

^^Andava  comhattendoj  ed  era  moHo.-- 

In  private  society,  however,  he  could,  even  now,  (before  the  Rubi- 
con of  the  cup  was  passed,)  fully  justify  his  high  reputation  for 
agreeableness  and  wit ; and  a day  which  it  was  my  good  fortune 
to  spend  with  him,  at  the  table  of  Mr.  Rogers,  has  too  many 
mournful,  as  well  as  pleasant,  associations  connected  with  it,  to 
be  easily  forgotten  by  the  survivors  of  the  party.  The  company 
consisted  but  of  Mr.  Rogers  himself.  Lord  Byron,  Mr.  Sheridan, 
and  thf;  writer  of  this  Memoir.  Sheridan  knew  the  admiration 
his  audience  felt  for  him  ; the  presence  of  the  young  poet,  in 
particular,  seemed  to  bring  back  his  own  youth  and  wit ; and  the 
details  he  gave  of  his  early  life  were  not  less  interesting  and  ani- 
mating to  himself  than  delightful  to  us.  It  was  in  the  course  of  this 
evening  that,  describing  to  us  the  poem  which  Mr.  Whitbread  had 
written  and  sent  in,  among  the  other  Addresses,  for  the  opening 
of  Drury-Lane,  and  which,  like  the  rest,  turned  chiefly  on  allu- 
sions to  the  Phenix,  he  said, — “ But  Whitbread  made  more  of 
this  bird  than  any  of  them  : — he  entered  into  particulars,  and 

* “And  Folly  loves  the  martyrdom  of  Fame.” 

This  fine  line  is  in  Lord  Byron’s  Monody  to  his  memory.  There  is  another  line,  equally 
true  and  touching,  where  allud  ng  to  the  irregularities  of  the  latter  part  of  Sheridan’s 
life,  ne  says — 

“ Vnd  what  to  them  seem’d  vice  might  be  but  woe  ” 


HldHt  HOiT.  RICHARD  BRlKSLR^  SHHRIDAK.  803 

described  its  wings,  beak,  tail,  &c. ; in  short,  it  was  a Poulterer  s 
description  of  a Phenix  !” 

The  following  extract  from  a Diary  in  my  possession,  kept  by 
Lord  Byron  during  six  months  of  his  residence  in  London,  1812 
— 13,  will  show  the  admiration  which  this  great  and  generous 
spirit  felt  for  Sheridan : — 

^’’Saturday,  December  IS,  1813. 

“ Lord  Holland  told  me  a curious  piece  of  sentimentality  in 
Sheridan.  The  other  night  we  were  all  delivering  our  respec- 
tive and  various  opinions  on  him  and  other  ‘ hommes  marquans^ 
and  mine  was  this  : — ‘ Whatever  Sheridan  has  done  or  chosen  to 
do  has  been  jyar  excellence^  always  the  best  of  its  kind.  He  has 
written  the  best  comedy,  (School  for  Scandal,)  the  best  opera, 
(The  Duenna — in  my  mind  far  before  that  St.  Giles’s  lampoon, 
The  Beggar’s  Opera,)  the  best  farce,  (The  Critic — it  is  only  too 
good  for  an  after-piece,)  and  the  best  Address,  (Monologue  on 
Garrick,) — and  to  crown  all,  delivered  the  very  best  oration,  (the 
famous  Begum  Speech,)  ever  conceived  or  heard  in  this  country.’ 
Somebody  told  Sheridan  this  the  next  day,  and  on  hearing  it,  he 
burst  into  tears! — Poor  Brinsley!  If  they  were  tears  of  plea- 
sure, I would  rather  have  said  those  few,  but  sincere,  words, 
than  have  written  the  Iliad,  or  made  his  own  celebrated  Philippic. 
Nay,  his  own  comedy  never  gratified  me  more  than  to  hear  that 
he  had  derived  a moment’s  gratification  from  any  praise  of  mine 
— humble  as  it  must  appear  to  ‘ my  elders  and  my  betters.’  ” 

The  distresses  of  Sheridan  now  increased  every  day,  and 
through  the  short  remainder  of  his  life  it  is  a melancholy  task 
to  follow  him.  The  sum  arising  from  the  sale  of  his  theatrical 
property  was  soon  exhausted  by  the  various  claims  upon  it,  and 
he  was  driven  to  part  with  all  that  he  most  valued,  to  satisfy 
further  demands  and  provide  for  the  subsistence  of  the  day. 
Those  books  which,  as  I have  already  mentioned,  were  presented 
to  him  by  various  friends,  now  stood  in  their  splendid  bindings,^ 


* In  most  of  them,  too,  were  the  names  of  the  givers.  The  delicacy  with  which  Mr. 
Harrison  of  Wardour-Street,  (tlie  pawnbroker  with  whom  the  books  and  the  cun  were  dc’ 


304  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  TH^ 

on  the  shelves  of  the  pawnbroker.  ^ The  handsome  cup,  given 
him  by  the  electors  of  Stafford,  shared  the  same  fate.  Three  or 
four  fine  pictures  by  Gainsborough,  and  one  by  Mori  and,  were 
sold  for  little  more  than  five  hundred  pounds ; ^ and  even  the 
precious  portrait  of  his  first  wife,f  by  Reynolds,  though  not  ac- 
tually sold  during  his  life,  vanished  away  from  his  eyes  into 
other  hands. 

One.  of  the  most  humiliating  trials  of  his  pride  was  yet  to 
come.  In  the  spring  of  this  year  he  was  arrested  and  carried  to 
a spunging-house,  where  he  remained  two  or  three  days. 
This  abode,  from  which  the  following  painful  letter  to  Whit- 
bread was  written,  formed  a sad  contrast  to  those  Princely  halls, 
of  which  he  had  so  lately  been  the  most  brilliant  and  favored 
guest,  and  which  were  possibly,  at  that  very  moment,  lighted  up 
and  crowded  with  gay  company,  unmindful  of  him  within  those 
prison  walls : — 

^^Tooheh  Court,  Cursitor- Street^  Thursday ^ 'past  two, 

“ I have  done  everything  in  my  power  with  the  solicitors, 
White  and  F ounes,  to  obtain  my  release,  by  substituting  a better 
security  for  them  than  their  detaining  me — but  in  vain. 

“ Whitbread,  putting  all  false  professions  of  friendship  and 
feeling  out  of  the  question,  you  have  no  right  to  keep  me  here ! 
— for  it  is  in  truth  your  act — if  you  had  not  forcibly  withheld* 


posited,)  behaved,  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Sheridan,  deserves  to  be  mentioned  with  praise. 
Instead  of  availing  himself  of  the  public  feeling  at  that  moment,  by  submitting  these 
precious  relics  to  the  competition  of  a sale,  he  privately  communicated  to  the  family  and 
one  or  two  friends  of  Sheridan  the  circumstance  of  his  having  such  articles  in  his  hands, 
and  demanded  nothing  more  than  the  sum  regularly  due  on  them.  The  Stafford  cup  is  in 
the  possession  of  Mr.  Charles  Sheridan. 

* In  the  following  extract  from  a note  to  his  solicitor,  he  refers  to  these  pictures  : 

“ Dear  Burgess, 

“I  am  perfectly  satisfied  with  your  account ; — nothing  can  be  more  clear  or  fair,  or 
more  disinterested  on  your  part  but  I must  grieve  to  think  that  five  or  six  hundred 
pounds  for  my  poor  pictures  are  added  to  i he  expenditure.  However,  we  shall  come 
through  1’’ 

+ As  Saint  Cecilia.  The  portrait  of  Mrs.  Sheridan  at  Knowle,  though  less  ideal  than 
that  of  Sir  Joshua,  is,  (for  this  very  reason  perhaps,  as  bearing  a closei  resemblance  tx> 
the  original,)  still  more  beautiful 


l^lGHT  HON.  RICHAliD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  B06 

from  me  the  twelve  thousand  pounds^  in  consequence  of  a threat- 
ening letter  from  a miserable  swindler,  whose  claim  YOU  in 
particular  knew  to  he  a lie^  I should  at  least  have  been  out  of  the 
reach  of  this  state  of  miserable  insult — for  that,  and  that  only^ 
lost  me  my  seat  in  Parliament.  And  I assert  that  you  cannot 
find  a lavA’er  in  the  land,  that  is  not  either  a natuarl-born  fool  or 
a corrupted  scoundrel,  who  will  not  declare  that  your  conduct  in 
this  respect  was  neither  warrantable  nor  legal — but  let  that  pass 
for  the  present. 

“ Independently  of  the  1000/.  ignorantly  withheld  from  me  on 
the  day  of  considering  my  last  claim.  I require  of  you  to  an- 
swer the  draft  I send  herewith  on  the  part  of  the  Committee, 
pledging  myself  to  prove  to  them  on  the  first  day  I can  personal- 
ly meet  them,  that  there  are  still  thousands  and  thousands  due 
to  me,  both  le£fally,  and  equitably,  from  the  Theatre.  My  word 
ought  to  be  taken  on  this  subject ; and  you  may  produce  to  them 
this  document,  if  one,  among  them  could  think  that,  under  all 
the  circumstances,  your  conduct  required  a justification.  O God  ! 
with  what  mad  confidence  have  I trusted  your  word.^ — I ask  jus- 
tice from  you,  and  no  boon.  I enclosed  you  yesterday  three  dif- 
ferent securities,  wPich  had  you  been  disposed  to  have  acted 
even  as  a private  friend,  would  have  made  it  certain  that  you 
might  have  done  so  without  the  smallest  risk.  These  you  dis- 
creetly offered  to  put  into  the  fire,  when  you  found  the  object  of 
your  humane  visit  satisfied  by  seeing  me  safe  in  prison. 

“I  shall  only  add,  that,  I think,  if  I know  myself,  had  our 
lots  been  reversed,  and  I had  seen  you  in  my  situation,  and  had 
left  Lady  E.  in  that  of  my  wdfe,  I would  have  risked  600/.  rather 
than  have  left  you  so — although  I had  been  in  no  way  accessary 
in  bringing  you  into  that  condition. 

“ S.  Whitbread^  Esq.  “ R.  B.  Sheridan.” 

Even  in  this  situation  the  sanguineness  of  his  disposition  did 
not  desert  him  ; for  he  was  found  by  Mr.  Whitbread,  on  his 
visit  to  the  spunging-house,  confidently  calculating  on  the  repre- 
sentation for  Westminster,  in  which  the  proceedings  relative  to 


?M  MEMOIRS  of  tMe  life  OF 

Lord  Cochrane  at  that  moment  promised  a vacancy.  On  his 
return  home,  however,  to  Mrs.  Sheridan,  (some  arrangements 
having  been  made  by  Whitbread  for  his  release,)  all  his  forti- 
tude forsook  him,  and  he  burst  into  a long  and  passionate  fit  of 
weeping  at  the  profanation,  as  he  termed  it,  which  his  person  had 
sufiered. 

He  had  for  some  months  had  a feeling  that  his  life  was  near 
its  close  ^ and  I find  the  following  touching  passage  in  a letter  from 
him  to  Mrs.  Sheridan,  after  one  of  those  differences  which  will 
sometimes  occur  between  the  most  affectionate  companions,  and 
which,  possibly,  a remonstrance  on  his  irregularities  and  want  of 
care  of  himself  occasioned  : — ‘‘  Never  again  let  one  harsh  word 
pass  between  us,  during  the  period,  which  may  not  perhaps  be 
long,  that  we  are  in  this  world  together,  and  life,  however  cloud- 
ed to  me,  is  mutually  spared  to  us.  I have  expressed  this  same 
sentiment  to  my  son,  in  a letter  I wrote  to  him  a few  days  since, 
and  I had  his  answer — a most  affecting  one,  and,  I am  sure,  very 
sincere — and  have  since  cordially  embraced  him.  Don’t  imagine 
that  I am  expressing  an  interesting  apprehension  about  myself, 
which  1 do  not  feel.” 

Though  the  new  Theatre  of  Drury-Lane  had  now  been  three 
vears  built,  his  feelings  had  never  allowed  him  to  set  his  foot 
within  its  walls.  About  this  time,  however,  he  was  persuaded 
by  his  friend.  Lord  Essex,  to  dine  with  him  and  go  in  the  even- 
ing to  His  Lordship’s  box,  to  see  Kean.  Once  there,  the  ‘^genius 
loci’’*  seems  to  have  regained  its  influence  over  him ; for,  on  miss- 
ing him  from  the  box,  between  the  Acts,  Lord  Essex,  who  feared 
that  he  had  left  the  House,  hastened  out  to  inquire,  and,  to  his 
great  satisfaction,  found  him  installed  in  the  Green-room,  with 
all  the  actors  around  him,  welcoming  him  back  to  the  old  region 
of  his  glory,  with  a sort  of  filial  cordiality.  Wine  was  imme- 
diately ordered,  and  a bumper  to  the  health  of  Mr.  Sheridan 
was  drank  by  all  present,  with  the  expression  of  many  a hearty 
wish  that  he  would  often,  very  often,  re-appear  among  them.. 
This  scene,  as  was  natural,  exhilarated  his  spirits,  and,  on  parting 
with  Lord  Essex  that  night,  at  his  own  door,  in  Saville-Row.  he 


mam  hok.  ricsaud  bkiksley  sheridan.  307 

said  triumphantly  that  the  world  woi.ld  soon  hear  of  him,  for 
the  Duke  of  Norfolk  was  about  to  bring  him  into  Parliament. 
This,  it  appears,  was  actually  the  case ; but  Death  stood  near  as 
he  spoke.  In  a few  days  after  his  last  fatal  illness  began. 

Amid  all  the  distresses  of  these  latter  years  of  his  life,  he  ap- 
pears but  rarely  to  have  had  recourse  to  pecuniary  assistance 
from  friends.  Mr.  Peter  Moore,  Mr.  Ironmonger,  and  one  or 
two  others,  who  did  more  for  the  comfort  of  his  decline  than  any 
of  his  high  and  noble  associates,  concur  in  stating  that,  except 
for  such  an  occasional  trifle  as  his  coach-hire,  he  was  by  no  means, 
as  has  been  sometimes  asserted,  in  the  habit  of  borrowing.  One 
instance,  however,  where  he  laid  himself  under  this  sort  of  obli- 
gation, deserves  to  be  mentioned.  Soon  after  the  return  of  Mr. 
Canning  from  Lisbon,  a letter  was  put  into  his  hands,  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  which  proved  to  be  a request  from  his  old 
friend  Sheridan,  then  lying  ill  in  bed,  that  he  would  oblige  him 
with  the  loan  of  a hundred  pounds.  It  is  unnecessary  to  say 
that^the  request  was  promptly  and  feelingly  complied  with ; and 
if  the  pupil  has  ever  regretted  leaving  the  politics  of  his  master, 
it  was  not  at  that  moment,  at  least,  such  a feeling  was  likely  to 
present  itself. 

There  are,  in  the  possession  of  a friend  of  Sheridan,  copies  of 
a correspondence  in  which  he  was  engaged  this  year  with  two 
noble  Lords  and  the  confidential  agent  of  an  illustrious  Person- 
age, upon  a subject,  as  it  appears,  of  the  utmost  delicacy  and 
importance.  The  letters  of  Sheridan,  it  is  said,  (for  I have  not 
seen  them,)  though  of  too  secret  and  confidential  a nature  to 
meet  the  public  eye,  not  only  prove  the  great  confidence  reposed 
in  him  by  the  parties  concerned,  but  show  the  clearness  and 
manliness  of  mind  which  he  could  still  command,  under  the 
pressure  of  all  that  was  most  trying  to  human  intellect. 

The  disorder,  with  which  he  was  now  attacked,  arose  from  a 
diseased  state  of  the  stomach,  brought  on  partly  by  irregular 
living,  and  partly  by  the  harassing  anxieties  that  had,  for  so  many 
years,  without  intermission,  beset  him.  His  powders  of  digestion 
grew  every  day  worse,  till  he  was  at  length  unable  to  retain  any 


808 


Memoirs  of  the  life  op  the 


sustenance.  Notwithstanding  this,  however,  his  strength  seemed 
to  be  but  little  broken,  and  his  pulse  remained,  for  some  time, 
strong  and  regular.  Had  he  taken,  indeed,  but  ordinary  care 
of  himself  through  life,  the  robust  conformation  of  his  frame, 
and  particular‘ly,  as  I have  heard  his  physician  remark,  the  pecu- 
liar width  and  capaciousness  of  his  chest,  seemed  to  mark  him 
out  for  a long  course  of  healthy  existence.  In  general  Nature 
appears  to  have  a prodigal  delight  in  enclosing  her  costliest  es- 
sences in  the  most  frail  and  perishable  vessels  : — but  Sheridan 
was  a signal  exception  to  this  remark ; for,  with  a spirit  so 
“ finely  touched,”  he  combined  all  the  robustness  of  the  most 
uninspired  clay. 

Mrs.  Sheridan  was,  at  first,  not  aware  of  his  danger ; but  Dr. 
Bain — whose  skill  was  now,  as  it  ever  had  been,  disinterestedly 
at  the  service  of  his  friend,* — thought  it  right  to  communicate 
to  her  the  apprehensions  that  he  felt.  From  that  moment,  her 
attentions  to  the  sufferer  never  ceased  day  or  night ; and,  thougn 
drooping  herself  with  an  illness  that  did  not  leave  her  long  be 
hind  him,  she  watched  over  his  every  w^ord  and  wish,  with  unre- 
mitting anxiety,  to  the  last. 


* A letter  rom  Sheridan  to  this  amiable  man,  (of  which  I know  not  the  date,) 
written  in  reference  to  a caution  which  he  had  given  Mrs.  Sheridan,  against  sleeping  in 
the  same  bed  with  a lady  who  was  consumptive,  expresses  feelings  creditable  alike  to 
the  writer  and  his  physician  : — 

‘ ‘ My  dear  Sir,  July  31. 

“ The  caution  you  recommend  proceeds  from  that  attentive  kindness  which  Hester  al- 
ways receives  from  you,  and  upon  which  I place  the  greatest  reliance  for  her  safety.  1 
so  entirely  agree  with  your  apprehensions  on  the  subject,  that  I think  it  was  very  giddy 
in  me  not  to  have  been  struck  with  them  when  she  first  mentioned  having  slept  with  hei 
friend.  Nothing  can  abate  my  love  for  her  ; and  the  manner  in  which  you  apply  the  in 
tcrest  you  take  in  her  happiness,  and  direct  the  influence  you  possess  in  her  mind,  ren 
der  you,  beyond  comparison,  the  person  I feel  most  ( bliged  to  upon  earth.  I take  this 
opportunity  of  saying  this  upon  paper,  because  it  is  a subject  on  which  1 always  find  it 
difficult  to  speak. 

“ With  respect  to  tliat  part  of  your  note  in  which  you  express  such  friendly  partiality, 
as  to  my  parliamentary  conduct,  1 need  not  add  that  there  is  no  man  whose  good  opinion 
can  be  more  flattering  to  ms. 

“ I am  ever,  iny  dear  Bain,  f 

“ Vour  sincere  and  obliged 

“ R B.  SHKRIDAJf.^^ 


RIGHT  HCN.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  309 


Connected,  no  doubt,  with  the  disorganization  of  his  stomach, 
was  an  abscess,  from  which,  though  distressingly  situated,  he 
does  not  appear  to  have  suffered  much  pain.  In  the  spring  of 
this  year,  however,  he  was  obliged  to  confine  himself,  almost 
entirely,  to  nis  bed.  Being  expected  to  attend  the  St.  Patrick’s 
Dinner,  on  the  17th  of  March,  he  wrote  a letter  to  the  Duke  of 
Kent,  who  was  President,  alleging  severe  indisposition  as  the 
cii'i.se  cjf  his  absence.  The  contents  of  this  letter  were  com 
municated  to  the  company,  and  produced,  as  appears  by  the 
following  note  from  the  Duke  of  Kent,  a strong  sensation  : — 

Kensington  Palace,  March  27,  1816. 

‘‘  My  dear  Sheridan, 

“ I have  been  so  hurried  ever  since  St.  Patrick’s  day,  as  to  be 
unable  earlier  to  thank  you  for  your  kind  letter,  which  I received 
while  presiding  at  the  festive  board  ; but  I can  assure  you,  I was 
not  unmindful  of  it  then^  but  announced  the  afflicting  cause  of 
your  absence  to  the  company,  who  expressed,  in  a manner  that 
could  not  be  misunderstood^  their  continued  affection  for  the 
writer  of  it.  It  now  only  remains  for  me  to  assure  you,  that  I 
appreciate  as  I ought  the  sentiments  of  attachment  it  contains 
for  me,  and  which  will  ever  be  most  cordially  returned  by  him, 
who  is  with  the  most  friendly  regard,  my  dear  Sheridan, 

“ Yours  faithfully. 

The  Right  Hon.  R.  B.  Sheridan.  “ Edward.” 

The  following  letter  to  him  at  this  time  from  his  elder  sister 
will  be  read  with  interest : — 

My  dear  Brother,  Dublin,  May  9,  1816. 

“ I am  very,  very  sorry  you  are  ill ; but  I trust  in  God  your 
naturally  strong  constitution  will  retrieve  all,  and  that  1 shall 
soon  have  the  satisfaction  of  hearing  that  you  are  in  a fair  way 
of  recovery.  I well  know  the  nature  of  your  complaint,  that  it 
is  extremely  painful,  but  if  properly  treated,  and  no  doubt  you 
have  the  best  advice,  not  dangerous.  I know  a lady  now  past 
sevent^^  four,  who  many  years  since  was  attacked  with  a similaz 


A 

310  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

complaint,  and  is  now  as  well  as  most  persons  of  her  time  of  life; 
Where  poulticing  is  necessary,  I have  known  oatmeal  used  with 
the  best  effect.  Forgive,  dear  brother,  this  officious  zeal.  Your 
son  Thomas  told  me  he  felt  obliged  to  me  for  not  prescribing  for 
him.  I did  not,  because  in  his  case  I thought  it  would  be  ineffec- 
tual ; in  yours  I have  reason  to  hope  the  contrary.  I am  very 
glad  to  hear  of  the  good  effect  change  of  climate  has  made  in 
him  ; — I took  a great  liking  to  him;  there  was  something  kind  in 
his  manner  that  won  upon  my  affections.  Of  your  son  Charles 
I hear  the  most  delightful  accounts : — that  he  has  an  excellent 
and  cultivated  understanding,  and  a heart  as  good.  May  he  be  a 
blessing  to.you,  and  a compensation  for  much  you  have  endured  ! 
That  I do  not  know  him,  that  I have  not  seen  you,  (so  early  and 
so  long  the  object  of  my  affection,)  for  so  many  years,  has  not 
been  my  fault;  but  I have  ever  considered  it  as  a drawback  upon 
a situation  not  otherwise  unfortunate ; for,  to  use  the  words  of 
Goldsmith,  I have  endeavored  to  ‘ draw  upon  content  for  the 
deficiencies  of  fortune ;’  and  truly  I have  had  some  employment 
in  that  way,  for  considerable  have  been  our  worldly  disappoint- 
ments. But  those  are  not  the  worst  evils  of  life,  and  we  have 
good  children,  which  is  its  first  blessing.  I have  often  told  you 
my  son  Tom  bore  a strong  resemblance  to  you,  when  I loved 
you  preferably  to  any  thing  the  world  contained.  This,  which 
was  the  case  with  him  in  childhood  and  early  youth,  is  still  so  in 
mature  years.  In  character  of  mind,  too,  he  is  very  like  you, 
though  education  and  situation  have  made  a great  difference. 
At  that  period  of  existence,  when  the  temper,  morals,  and  pro- 
pensities are  formed,  Tom  had  a mother  who  watched  over  his 
health,  his  w^ell-being,  and  every  part  of  education  in  which  a 
female  could  be  useful.  You  had  lost  a mother  who  would  have 
cherished  you,  whose  talents  you  inherited,  who  would  have  soft- 
ened the  asperity  of  our  father’s  temper,  and  probably  have 
prevented  his  unaccountable  partialities.  You  have  always  shown 
a noble  independence  of  spirit,  that  the  pecuniary  difficulties  you 
often  had  to  encounter  could  not  induce  you  to  forego.  As  a 
public  man,  you  have  been^  like  the  jnotto  of  the  Le%iu  family. 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN,  811 


*Sme  macula  i’  and  I am  persuaded  had  you  not  too  early  been 
thrown  upon  the  world,  and  alienated  from  your  family,  you 
would  have  been  equally  good  as  a private  character.  My  son  is 
eminently  so.  * * ^ 

“ Do,  dear  brother,  send  me  one  line  to  tell  me  you  are  better, 
and  believe  me,  most  affectionately, 

“Yours, 

“ Alicia  Lefanu.” 

While  death  was  thus  gaining  fast  on  Sheridan,  the  miseries 
of  his  life  were  thickening  around  him  also ; nor  did  the  last  cor 
ner,  in  which  he  now  lay  down  to  die,  afford  him  any  asylum 
from  the  clamors  of  his  legal  pursuers.  Writs  and  executions 
came  in  rapid  succession,  and  bailiffs  at  length  gained  possession 
of  his  house.  It  was  about  the  beginning  of  May  that  Lord 
Holland,  on  being  informed  by  Mr.  Rogers,  (who  was  one  of 
the  very  few  that  watched  the  going  out  of  this  great  light  with 
interest,)  of  the  dreary  situation  in  which  his  old  friend  was  ly- 
ing, paid  him  a visit  one  evening,  in  company  with  Mr.  Rogers, 
and  by  the  cordiality,  suavity,  and  cheerfulness  of  his  conversa- 
tion, shed  a charm  round  that  chamber  of  sickness,  which,  per- 
haps, no  other  voice  but  his  own  could  have  imparted. 

Sheridan  was,  I believe,  sincerely  attached  to  Lord  Holland,  in 
whom  he  saw  transmitted  the  same  fine  qualities,  both  of  mind 
and  heart,  which,  notwithstanding  occasional  appearances  to  the 
contrary,  he  had  never  ceased  to  love  and  admire  in  his  great 
relative ; — the  same  ardor  for  Right  and  impatience  of  Wrong 
— the  same  mixture  of  wisdom  and  simplicity,  so  tempering  each 
other,  as  to  make  the  simplicity  refined  and  the  wisdom  unaffected— 
the  same  gentle  magnanimity  of  spirit,  intolerant  only  of  tyranny 
and  injustice — and,  in  addition  to  all  this,  a range  and  vivacity  of 
conversation,  entirely  his  own,  which  leaves  no  subject  untouched 
or  unadorned,  but  is,  (to  borrow  a fancy  of  Dryden,)  “ as  the 
Morning  of  the  Mind,”  bringing  new  objects  and  images  succes- 
sively into  view,  and  scattering  its  own  fresh  light  over  all. 
^uch  a visit,  therefore,  could  not  fail  to  be  soothing  and  gratify 


312 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


ing  to  Sheridan ; and,  on  parting,  both  Lord  Holland  and  Mr. 
Eogers  comforted  him  with  the  assurance  that  some  steps  should 
be  taken  to  w^ard  off  the  immediate  evils  that  he  dreaded. 

An  evening  or  two  after,  (Wednesday,  May  15,)  I was  with 
Mr.  Rogers,  when,  on  returning  home,  he  found  the  following  af 
dieting  note  upon  his  table : — 

“ Savilk-Row. 

“I  find  things  settled  so  that  150/.  will  remove  all  difficulty. 
I am  absolutely  undone  and  broken-hearted.  I shall  negotiate 
for  the  Plays  successfully  in  the  course  of  a week,  when  all  shall 
be  returned.  I have  desired  Fairbrother  to  get  back  the  Guar- 
antee for  thirty. 

“ They  are  going  to  put  the  carpets  out  of  window,  and  break 
into  Mrs.  S.’s  room  and  take  me — for  God’s  sake  let  me  see 
you. 

“ R.  B.  S.” 

It  was  too  late  to  do  any  thing  when  this  note  was  received, 
being  then  between  twelve  and  one  at  night ; but  Mr.  Rogers 
and  I walked  down  to  Saville-Row  together  to  assure  ourselves 
that  the  threatened  arrest  had  not  yet  been  put  in  execution.  A 
servant  spoke  to  us  out  of  the  area,  and  said  that  all  was  safe  for 
the  night,  but  that  it  was  intended,  in  pursuance  of  this  new 
proceeding,  to  paste  bills  over  the  front  of  the  house  next  day. 

On  the  following  morning  I w^as  early  with  Mr.  Rogers,  and 
willingly  undertook  to  be  the  bearer  of  a draft  for  150/.“^  to  Sa- 
ville-Row. I found  Mr.  Sheridan  good-natured  and  cordial  as 
ever ; and  though  he  was  then  within  a few  weeks  of  his  death, 
his  voice  had  not  lost  its  fulness  or  strength,  nor  w^as  that  lustre, 
for  wFich  his  eyes  w^ere  so  remarkable,  diminished.  He  showed, 
too,  his  usual  sanguineness  of  disposition  in  speaking  of  the  price 
that  he  expected  for  his  Dramatic  Works,  and  of  the  certainty 
he  felt  of  being  able  to  arrange  all  his  afiairs,  if  his  complaint 
would  but  sufier  him  to  leave  his  bed. 

T.ord  Holland  aflerAvards  insisted  upon  paying  the  half  of  this  sum, — wliich  was  no* 
the  first  of  the  same  amount  that  my  liberal  friend,  Mr.  Rogers,  had  advanced  for  Sheri 
dan.  


EIGHT  HON.  KICHARD  BEINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  813 

% 

In  the  following  month,  his  powers  began  rapidly  to  fail  him ; 
— his  stomach  was  completely  worn  out,  and  could  no  longer 
bear  any  kind  of  sustenance.  During  the  whole  of  this  time, 
as  far  as  I can  learn,  it  does  not  appear  that,  (with  the  exceptions 
I have  mentioned,)  any  one  of  his  Noble  or  Royal  friends  ever 
called  at  his  door,  or  even  sent  to  inquire  after  him  1 

About  this  period  Doctor  Bain  received  the  folio wmg  note 
from  Mr.  V aughan : — 

“My  dear  Sir, 

“An  apology  in  a case  of  humanity  is  scarcely  necessary,  be- 
sides I have  the  honor  of  a slight  acquaintance  with  you.  A 
friend  of  mine,  hearing  of  our  friend  Sheridan’s  forlorn  situation, 
and  that  he  has  neither  money  nor  credit  for  a few  comforts,  has 
employed  me  to  convey  a small  sum  for  his  use.  through  such 
channel  as  I think  right.  I can  devise  none  better  than  through 
you.  If  I had  had  the  good  fortune  to  have  seen  you,  I should 
have  left  for  this  purpose  a draft  for  50/.  Perhaps  as  much 
more  might  be  had  if  it  will  be  conducive  to  a good  end — of 
course  you  must  feel  it  is  not  for  the  purpose  of  satisfying  trou- 
blesome people.  I will  say  more  to  you  if  you  will  do  me  the 
honor  of  a call  in  your  way  to  Saville-Street  to-morrow.  I am 
a mere  agent. 

“ I am, 

“ My  dear  Sir, 

“ Most  truly  yours, 

“ 23,  Grafton- Street  “ John  Taylor  Vaughan. 

“ If  I should  not  see  you  before  twelve,  I will  come  through 
the  passage  to  you.” 

In  his  interview  with  Dr.  Bain,  Mr.  Vaughan  stated,  that  the 
sum.  thus  placed  at  his  disposal  was,  in  all,  200/.  f and  the  pro- 
position being  submitted  to  hlrs.  Sheridan,  that  lady,  after  con- 
suiting  with  some  of  her  relatives,  returned  for  answer  that,  as 

♦ Mr.  Vaughan  did  uol  give  Doctor  Buin  to  understand  that  lie  was  authorized  to  go  l»p- 
yond  the  200Z.  ; but,  in  a conversation  which  I liad  with  liim  a year  or  two  after,  incop- 
teinplalion  ot  this  Memoir,  lie  Udd  me  that  a further  supply  was  intende4. 

yoh,  ih  1 4 


314 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


there  was  a sufficiency  of  means  to  provide  all  that  was  neces- 
sary for  her  husband’s  comfort,  as  well  as  her  own,  she  begged 
leave  to  decline  the  offer. 

Mr.  Vaughan  always  said,  that  the  donation,  thus  meant  to  be 
doled  out,  came  from  a Royal  hand ; — but  this  is  hardly  credi- 
ble. It  would  be  safer,  perhaps,  to  let  the  suspicion  rest  upon 
that  gentleman’s  memory,  of  having  indulged  his  own  benevo- 
lent disposition  in  this  disguise,  than  to  suppose  it  possible  that 
so  scanty  and  reluctant  a benefaction  was  the  sole  mark  of  atten- 
tion accorded  by  a “ gracious  Prince  and  Master”*  to  the  hist, 
death-bed  wants  of  one  of  the  most  accomplished  and  faithful 
servants,  that  Royalty  ever  yet  raised  or  ruined  by  its  smiles. 
When  the  philosopher  Anaxagoras  lay  dying  for  want  of  suste- 
nance, his  great  pupil,  Pericles,  sent  him  a sum  of  money.  “ Take 
it  back,”  said  Anaxagoras — if  he  wished  to  keep  the  lamp  alive, 
he  ought  to  have  administered  the  oil  before !” 

In  the  mean  time,  the  clamors  and  incursions  of  creditors  in- 
creased. A sheriff's  officer  at  length  arrested  the  dying  man  in 
his  bed,  and  was  about  to  carry  him  off,  in  his  blankets,  to  a 
spunging-house,  when  Doctor  Bain  interfered — and,  by  threaten- 
ing the  officer  with  the  responsibility  he  must  incur,  if,  as  was 
but  too  probable,  his  prisoner  should  expire  on  the  way,  averted 
this  outrage. 

About  the  middle  of  June,  the  attention  and  sympathy  of  the 
Public  were,  for  the  first  time,  awakened  to  the  desolate  situa- 
tion of  Sheridan,  by  an  article  that  appeared  in  the  Morning 
Post, — written,  as  I understand,  by  a gentleman,  who,  though  on 
no  very  cordial  terms  with  him,  forgot  every  other  feeling  in  a 
generous  pity  for  his  fate,  and  in  honest  indignation  against  those 
who  now  deserted  him.“  “ Oh  delay  not,”  said  the  writer,  with- 
out naming  the  person  to  whom  he  alluded — “ delay  not  to  draw 
aside  the  curtain  within  which  that  proud  spirit  hides  its  suffer 
ings.”  He  then  adds,  with  a striking  anticipation  of  what  after- 
wards happened  ; — “ Prefer  ministering  in  the  chamber  of  sick 
oess  to  mustering  at 

^ ^ee  Sherhlan’s  lA:>lter,  r>a^n 


RIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  315 


* The  splendid  sorrows  that  adorn  the  hearse 

I say,  Life  and  Succor  against  Westminster- Abbey  and  a Fune- 
ral !” 

This  article  produced  a strong  and  general  sensation,  and  was 
reprinted  in  the  same  paper  the  following  day.  Its  effect,  too, 
was  soon  visible  in  the  calls  made  at  Sheridan’s  door,  and  in  the 
appearance  of  such  names  as  the  Duke  of  York,  the  Duke  of 
Argyle,  dec.  among  the  visitors.  But  it  was  now  too  late  ; — the 
spirit,  that  these  unavailing  tributes  might  once  have  comforted, 
was  now  fast  losing  the  consciousness  of  every  thing  earthly,  but 
pain.  After  a succession  of  shivermg  fits,  he  fell  into  a state  of 
exhaustion,  in  which  he  continued,  with  but  few  more  signs  of 
suffering,  till  his  death.  A day  or  two  before  that  event,  the 
Bishop  of  London  read  prayers  by  his  bed- side  ; and  on  Sunday^ 
the  seventh  of  July,  in  the  sixty-fifth  year  of  his  age,  he  died. 

On  the  following  Saturday  the  Funeral  took  place; — ^his  re- 
mains having  been  previously  removed  from  Saville-Row  to  the 
house  of  his  friend,  Mr.  Peter  Moore,  in  Great  George-Street, 
Westminster.  From  thence,  at  one  o’clock,  the  procession 
moved  on  foot  to  the  Abbey,  where,  in  the  only  spot  in  Poet’s 
Corner  that  remained  unoccupied,  the  body  was  interred;  and 
the  following  simple  inscription  marks  its  resting-place : — 

“RICHAED  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN, 

BORN,  1751, 

DIED,  7th  JULY,  1816. 

THIS  MARBLE  IS  THE  TRIBUTE  OF  AN  ATTACHED 
FRIEND, 

PETER  MOORE.” 

Seldom  has  there  been  seen  such  an  array  of  rank  as  graced 
this  Funeral.*  The  Pall-bearers  were  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  the 
Earl  of  Lauderdale,  Earl  Mulgrave,  the  Lord  Bishop  of  London, 
Lord  Holland,  and  Lord  Spencer.  Among  the  mourners  were 

It  was  well  remarked  by  a French  Journa.,  in  contrasting  the  penury  of  Sheridan's 
latter  years  with  the  splendor  of  his  Funeral,  that  ‘‘  France  is  the  place  for  a man  of  let- 
ters to  live  in,  and  England  the  place  tor  him  to  die  in.” 


816 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


His  Eoyal  Highness  the  Duke  of  York,  His  Royal  Highness  the 
Duke  of  Sussex,  the  Duke  pf  Argyle,  the  Marquisses  of  Anglesea 
and  Tavistock ; the  Earls  of  Thanet,  Jersey,  Harrington,  Bes- 
borough,  Mexborough,  Rosslyn,  and  Yarmouth ; Lords  George 
Cavendish  and  Robert  Spencer ; Viscounts  Sid  mouth,  Granville, 
and  D uncannon ; Lords  Rivers,  Erskine,  and  Lynedoch  • the 
Lord  Mayor ; Right  Hon.  G.  Canning  and  W.  W.  Pole,  &c.. 

Where  were  they  all,  these  Royal  and  Noble  persons,  who 
now  crowded  to  “ partake  the  gale”  of  Sheridan’s  glory — where 
were  they  all  while  any  life  remained  in  him  ? Where  were 
they  all,  but  a few  weeks  before,  when  their  interposition  might 
have  saved  his  heart  from  breaking, — or  when  the  zeal,  now 
wasted  on  the  grave,  might  have  soothed  and  comforted  the  death 
bed  ? This  is  a subject  on  which  it  is  difficult  to  speak  with 
patience.  If  the  man  was  unworthy  of  the  commonest  offices  of 
humanity  while  he  lived,  why  all  this  parade  of  regret  and  hom- 
age over  his  tomb  ? 

There  appeared  some  verses  at  the  time,  which,  however  in 
temperate  in  their  satire  and  careless  in  their  style,  came,  evi- 
dently, warm  from  the  heart  of  the  writer,  and  contained  senti- 
ments to  which,  even  in  his  cooler  moments,  he  needs  not  hesi- 
tate to  subscribe : — 

Oh  it  sickens  the  heart  to  see  bosoras  so  hollow, 

And  friendshi}xs  so  false  in  the  great  and  high-born ; — 

To  think  what  a long  line  of  Titles  may  follow 
The  relics  of  him  who  died,  friendless  and  lorn ! 

How  proud  they  can  press  to  the  funeral  array 
Of  him  whom  they  shunn’d,  in  his  sickness  and  sorrow — 

How  bailiffs  may  seize  his  last  blanket  to-day, 

Whose  pall  shall  be  held  up  by  Nobles  to-morrow 


♦ In  the  of  all  this  phalanx  of  Dukes,  Marquisses,  Earls,  Viscounts,  Barons, 

Honorable*,  and  Right  Honorables,  Princes  of  the  Blood  Royal,  and  First  Officers  of  the 
State,  it  was  not  a little  interesting  to  see,  walking  humbly,  side  by  side,  the  only  two 
men  whose  friendship  had  not  wailed  for  the  call  of  vanity  to  display  itself — Dr.  Bain  and 
BogerSy 


RIGHT  HON.  KICHAKD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  817 


The  anonymous  writer  thus  characterizes  the  talents  of  She 
ridan : — 

Was  this,  then,  the  fate  of  that  high-gifted  man, 

The  pride  of  the  palace,  the  bower,  and  the  hall — 

The  orator,  dramatist,  minstrel, — who  ran 
Through  each  mode  of  the  lyre,  and  was  master  of  all. 

Whose  mind  was  an  essence,  compounded,  with  art, 

From  the  finest  and  best  of  all  other  men^s  powers ; — 

Who  rul’d,  like  a wizard,  the  world  of  the  heart. 

And  could  call  up  its  sunshine,  or  draw  down  its  showers  ; — 

Whose  humor,  as  gay  as  the  fire-fly’s  light. 

Play’d  round  every  subject,  and  shone,  as  it  play’d  ; — 

Whose  wit,  in  the  combat  as  gentle  as  bright. 

Ne’er  carried  a heart-stain  away  on  its  blade  ; — 

“ Whose  eloquence  brightened  whatever  it  tried, 

Whether  reason  or  Ihncy,  the  gay  or  the  grave. 

Was  as  rapid,  as  deep,  and  as  brilliant  a tide. 

As  ever  bore  Freedom  aloft  on  its  wave  I” 


Though  a perusal  of  the  foregoing  pages  has,  I trust,  sufficiently 
furnished  the  reader  with  materials  out  of  which  to  form  his  own 
estimate  of  the  character  of  Sheridan,  a few  general  remarks 
may,  at  parting,  be  allowed  me — rather  with  a view  to  conrey 
the  impressions  left  upon  myself,  than  with  any  presumptuous 
hope  of  influencing  the  deductions  of  others. 

In  considering  the  intellectual  powers  of  this  extraordinary 
man,  the  circumstance  that  first  strikes  us  is  the  very  scanty 
foundation  of  instruction,  upon  which  he  contrived  to  raise  him- 
self to  such  eminence  both  as  a writer  and  a politician.  It  is 
true,  in  the  line  of  authorship  he  pursued,  erudition  was  not  so 
much  wanting ; and  his  wit,  like  the  laurel  of  Caesar,  was  leafy 
enough  to  hide  any  bareness  in  this  respect.  In  politics,  too,  he 
had  the  advantage  of  entering  upon  his  career,  at  a time  when 
habits  of  business  and  a knowledge  of  details  were  less  looked 


818 


Memoirs  oe  the  life  of  the 


for  in  public  men  than  they  are  at  present,  and  when  the  House 
of  Commons  was,  for  various  reasons,  a more  open  play-ground 
for  eloquence  and  wit.  The  great  increase  of  public  business, 
since  then,  has  necessarily  made  a considerable  change  in  this 
respect.  Not  only  has  the  time  of  the  Legislature  become  too 
precious  to  be  wasted  upon  the  mere  gymnastics  of  rhetoric,  but 
even  those  graces,  with  which  true  Oratory  surrounds  her  state- 
ments, are  but  impatiently  borne,  where  the  statement  itself  is 
the  primary  and  pressing  object  of  the  hearer.*  Burke,  we 
know,  was,  even  for  his  own  time,  too  much  addicted  to  what 
falconers  would  call  Taking^  or  flyiug  wide  of  his  game;  but 
there  was  hardly,  perhaps,  one  among  his  great  contemporaries, 
w’^ho,  if  beginning  his  career  at  present,  would  not  find  it,  in 
some  degree,  necessary  to  conform  his  style  to  the  taste  for 
business  and  matter-of-fact  that  is  prevalent.  Mr.  Pitt  would 
be  compelled  to  curtail  the  march  of  his  sentences — Mr.  Fox 
would  learn  to  repeat  himself  less  lavishly — nor  would  Mr. 
Sheridan  venture  to  enliven  a question  of  evidence  by  a long 
and  pathetic  appeal  to  Filial  Piety. 

In  addition  to  this  change  in  the  character  and  taste  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  wFich,  while  it  has  lowered  the  value  of  some 
of  the  qualifications  possessed  by  Sheridan,  has  created  a demand 
for  others  of  a more  useful  but  less  splendid  kind,  which  his  edu- 
cation and  habits  of  life  w^ould  have  rendered  less  easily  attain- 
able by  him,  w^e  must  take  also  into  account  the  prodigious  dif- 

* The  new  light  that  has  been  thrown  on  Political  Science  may  also,  perhaps,  be  as- 
signed as  a reason  for 'this  evident  revolution  in  Parliamentary  taste.  • “Truth,”  says  Lord 
Bacon,  “ is  a naked  and  open  daylight,  that  doth  not  show  the  masques,  and  mummeries, 
and  triumphs  of  the  present  world  half  so  stately  and  daintily  as  candle-lights  — and 
there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  clearer  any  important  truths  are  made,  the  less  contro- 
versy they  will  excite  among  fair  and  rational  men,  and  the  less  passion  and  fancy  ac- 
cordingly, can  eloquence  infuse  into  the  discussion  of  them.  Mathematics  have  produced 
no  quarrels  among  mankind — it  is  by  the  mysterious  and  the  vague,  that  temper  as  well 
as  imagination  is  most  roused.  In  proof  of  this,  while  the  acknowledged  clearness,  al- 
most to  truism,  which  the  leading  principles  of  Political  Science  have  attained,  has  tended 
to  simplify  and  tame  down  the  activities  of  eloquence  on  that  subject,  there  is  still  an- 
other arena  left,  in  the  science  of  the  Law,  where  the  same  illumination  of  truth  has  not 
yet  penetrated,  and  where  Oratory  will  still  continue  to  work  her  perplexing  spells,  till 
Common  Sense  and  tht  plain  prmciples  of  Utility  shall  find  their  way  there  also  to  weaken 
thorn. 


ElOfiT  HON.  RlCllAftD  fifelNSLEY  SHERiDAN.  gl9 


fererxe  produced  by  the  general  movement,  at  present,  of  the 
whole  civilized  world  towards  knowledge ; — a movement,  which 
no  public  man,  however  great  his  natural  talents,  could  now  lag 
behind  with  impunity,  and  w^hich  requires  nothing  less  than 
the  versatile  and  encyclopcedic  powers  of  a Brougham  to  keep 
pace  with  it. 

Another  striking  characteristic  of  Sheridan,  as  an  orator  and 
a writer,  was  the  great  degree  of  labor  and  preparation  which 
his  productions  in  both  lines  cost  him.  Of  this  the  reader  has 
seen  some  curious  proofs  in  the  preceding  pages.  Though  the 
papers  left  behind  by  him  have  added  nothing  to  the  stock  of 
his  chef  (Tceuvres^  they  have  given  us  an  insight  into  his  manner 
of  producing  his  great  works,  which  is,  perhaps,  the  next  most 
interesting  thing  to  the  works  themselves.  Though  no  new  star 
has  been  discovered,  the  history  of  the  formation  of  those  we 
already  possess,  and  of  the  gradual  process  by  which  they  were 
brought  “ firm  to  retain  their  gathered  beams,”  has,  as  in  the  in- 
stance of  The  School  for  Scandal,  been  most  interestingly  unfold- 
ed to  us. 

The  same  marks  of  labor  are  discoverable  throughout  the 
whole  of  his  Parliamentary  career.  He  never  made  a speech 
of  any  moment,  of  which  the  sketch,  more  or  less  detailed,  has 
not  been  found  among  his  papers — with  the  showder  passages 
generally  written  two  or  three  times  over,  (often  without  any 
material  change  in  their  form,)  upon  small  detached  pieces  of 
paper,  or  on  cards.  To  such  minutiae  of  effect  did  he  attend, 
that  I have  found,  in  more  than  one  instance,  a memorandum 
made  of  the  precise  place  in  which  the  w’ords  ‘‘  Good  God,  Mr. 
Speaker,”  were  to  be  introduced.  These  preparatory  sketches  are 
continued  down  to  his  latest  displays  ; and  it  is  observable  that 
when  from  the  increased  derangement  of  his  affairs,  he  had  no 
longer  leisure  or  collectedness  enough  to  prepare,  he  ceased  to 
speak. 

The  only  time  he  could  have  found  for  this  pre-arrangement 
of  his  thoughts,  (of  which  few,  from  the  apparent  idleness  of  his 
life,  suspected  him,)  must  have  been  during  the  many  hours  of 


S20 


MEMOIES  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


the  day  that  he  remained  in  bed, — when,  frequently,  while  the 
world  gave  him  credit  for  being  asleep,  he  was  employed  in  lay- 
ing the  frame-work  of  his  wit  and  eloquence  for  the  evening. 

That  this  habit  of  premeditation  was  not  altogether  owing  to 
a want  of  quickness,  appears  from  the  power  and  liveliness  of 
his  replies  in  Parliament,  and  the  vivacity  of  some  of  his  retorts 
in  conversation.*^*  The  labor,  indeed,  which  he  found  necessary 
for  his  public  displays,  was,  in  a great  degree,  the  combined  ef- 
fect of  his  ignorance  and  his  taste  ; — the  one  rendering  him  fear 
fill  of  committing  himself  on  the  matter  of  his  task,  and  the 
other  making  him  fastidious  and  hesitating  as  to  the  manner  of  it. 
I cannot  help  thinking,  however,  that  there  must  have  been,  also, 
a degree  of  natural  slowness  in  the  first  movements  of  his  mind 
upon  any  topic ; and,  that,  like  those  animals  which  remain  gaz- 
ing upon  their  prey  before  they  seize  it,  he  found  it  necessary  to 
look  intently  at  his  subject  for  some  time,  before  he  was  able  to 
make  the  last,  quick  spring  that  mastered  it. 

Among  the  proofs  of  this  dependence  of  his  fancy  upon  time 
and  thought  for  its  development,  may  be  mentioned  his  familiar 
letters,  as  far  as  their  fewness  enables  us  to  judge.  Had  his  wit 
been  a “ fruit,  that  would  fall  without  shaking,”  we  should,  in 
these  communications  at  least,  find  some  casual  windfalls  of  it. 
But,  from  the  want  of  sufficient  time  to  search  and  cull,  he  seems 
to  have  given  up,  in  despair,  all  thoughts  of  being  lively  in  his 
letters ; and  accordingly,  as  the  reader  must  have  observed  in 
the  specimens  that  have  been  given,  his  compositions  in  this  way 

♦ His  best  ton-mots  are  in  Ihe  memory  of  every  one.  Among  those  less  known,  per- 
haps, is  his  answer  to  General  T , relative  to  some  difference  of  opinion  between  them 

on  ihe  War  in  Spain  : — “ Well,  T , are  you  still  on  your  high  horse?” — “If  I was  on 

a liorse  before,  I am  upon  an  elephant  now.”  “ No,T , you  were  upon  an  ass  before, 

and  now  you  are  upon  a 

Some  mention  having  been  made  in  his  presence  of  a Tax  upon  Milestones,  Sheridan 
said,  “ such  a tax  w'ould  be  unconstitutional, — as  they  were  a race  that  could  not  meet 
to  remonstrate.” 

As  an  instance  of  his  humor,  I have  been  told  that,  in  some  country-house  where  he 
was  on  a visit,  an  elderly  maiden  lady  having  set  her  heart  on  being  his  companion  in  a 
walk,  he  excused  himself  at  first  on  account  of  the  badness  of  the  weather.  Soon  after- 
wards, however,  the  lady  intercepted  him  in  an  attempt  to  escape  without  her  : — “Well,” 
she  said,  “it  has  cleared  up,  I see.”  “Why,  yes,”  he  answered,  “it  has  cleared  up 
enough  for  one,  but  not  for  two.’* 


iiiafiT  HON.  KICHAKb  BRlNSLEY  SHERIDAN.  821 

are  not  only  unenlivened  by  any  excursions  beyond  the  bounds 
of  mere  matter  of  fact,  but,  from  the  habit  or  necessity  of  taking 
a certain  portion  of  time  for  correction,  are  singularly  confused, 
disjointed,  and  inelegant  in  their  style. 

It  is  certain  that  even  liis  hon-mots  in  society  were  not  always 
to  be  set  down  to  the  credit  of  the  occasion ; but  that  frequently, 
like  skilful  priests,  he  prepared  the  miracle  of  the  moment  be- 
fore-hand. Nothing,  indeed,  could  be  more  remarkable  than  the 
patience  and  tact,  with  which  he  would  wait  through  a whole 
evening  for  the  exact  moment,  when  the  shaft  which  he  had  rea- 
dy feathered,  might  be  let  fly  with  effect.  There  was  no  efibit, 
either  obvious  or  disguised,  to  lead  to  the  subject — no  “ question 
detached,  (as  he  himself  expresses  it,)  to  draw  you  into  the  am- 
buscade of  his  ready-made  joke” — and,  when  the  lucky  moment 
did  arrive,  the  natural  and  accidental  manner  in  which  he  would 
let  this  treasured  sentence  fall  from  his  lips,  considerably  added 
to  the  astonishment  and  the  charm.  So  bright  a thing,  produced 
so  easily,  seemed  like  the  delivery  of  Wieland’s^  Amanda  in  a 
dream ; — and  his  own  apparent  unconsciousness  of  the  value  of 
what  he  said  might  have  deceived  dull  people  into  the  idea  that 
there  was  really  nothing  in  it. 

The  consequence  of  this  practice  of  waiting  for  the  moment  of 
effect  was,  (as  all,  who  have  been  much  in  his  society,  must  have 
observed,)  that  he  would  remain  inert  in  conversation,  and  even 
taciturn,  for  hours,  and  then  suddenly  come  out  with  some  bril- 
liant  sally,  which  threw  a light  over  the  whole  evening,  and  was 
carried  away  in  the  memories  of  all  present.  Nor  must  it  be 
supposed  that  in  the  intervals,  either  before  or  after  these  flashes, 
he  ceased  to  be  agreeable ; on  the  contrary,  he  had  a grace  and 
good  nature  in  his  manner,  which  gave  a charm  to  even  his  most 
ordinary  sayings, — and  there  was,  besides,  that  ever-speaking 
lustre  in  his  eye,  which  made  it  impossible,  even  when  he  was 
silent,  to  forget  who  he  was. 

A curious  instance  of  the  care  with  which  he  treasured  up  the 
felicities  of  his  v/it,  appears  in  the  use  he  made  of  one  of  those 

* See  Sotheby’s  admirable  Translation  of  Oberon,  Canto  9, 

VOL.  n.  14* 


S22  MEMOIRS  OR  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

epigrammatic  passages,  which  the  reader  may  remember  among 
the  memorandums  for  his  Comedy  of  Affectation,  and  which,  in 
its  first  form,  ran  thus  : — “ He  certainly  has  a great  deal  of  fan- 
cy, and  a very  good  memory ; but,  with  a perverse  ingenuity,  he 
empJoys  these  qualities  as  no  other  person  does — for  he  employs 
his  fancy  in  his  narratives,  and  keeps  his  recollection  for  his  wit : 
— when  he  makes  his  jokes,  you  applaud  the  accuracy  of  his 
memory,  and  ’tis  only  when  he  states  his  facts  that  you  admire 
the  flights  of  his  imagination.”  After  many  efforts  to  express 
this  thought  more*^  concisely,  and  to  reduce  the  language  of  it  to 
that  condensed  and  elastic  state,  in  which  alone  it  gives  force  to 
the  projectiles  of  wit,  he  kept  the  passage  by  him  patiently  some 
years, — till  at  length  he  found  an  opportunity  of  turning  it  to 
account,  in  a reply,  I believe,  to  Mr.  Dundas,  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  when,  with  the  most  extemporaneous  air,  he  brought 
it  forth,  in  the  following  compact  and  pointed  form  : — “ The 
Right  Honorable  Gentleman  is  indebted  to  his  memory  for  his 
jests,  and  to  his  imagination  for  his  facts.” 

His  Political  Character  stands  out  so  fully  in  these  pages,  that 
it  is  needless,  by  any  comments,  to  attempt  to  raise  it  into 
stronger  relief.  If  to  watch  over  the  Rights  of  the  Subject,  and 
guard  them  against  the  encroachments  of  Power,  be,  even  in  safe 
and  ordinary  times,  a task  full  of  usefulness  and  honor,  how 
much  more  glorious  to  have  stood  sentinel  over  the  same  sacred 
trust,  through  a period  so  trying  as  that  with  which  Sheridan 
had  to  struggle — when  Liberty  itself  had  become  suspected  and 
unpopular — when  Authority  had  succeeded  in  identifying  patrio- 
tism with  treason,  and  when  the  few  remaining  and  deserted 
friends  of  Freedom  were  reduced  to  take  their  stand  on  a nar- 
rowing isthmus,  between  Anarchy  on  one  side,  and  the  angry 
incursions  of  Power  on  the  other.  How  manfully  he  maintained 
his  ground  in  a position  so  critical,  the  annals  of  England  and  of 
the  Champions  of  her  Constitution  will  long  testify.  The  truly 
national  spirit,  too,  with  which,  when  that  struggle  was  past,  and 
the  dangers  to  liberty  from  without  seemed  greater  than  any 
from  within,  he  forgot  all  past  differences,  in  the  one  common 


RIGHT  HOiSr.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAK.  S26 

cause  of  Englishmen,  and,  while  others  “ gave  but  the  left  hand 
to  the  Country,”*  proffered  her  both  of  his,  stamped  a seal  of  sin- 
cerity on  his  public  conduct,  w^hich,  in  the  eyes  of  all  England, 
authenticated  it  as  genuine  patriotism. 

To  his  own  party,  it  is  true,  his  conduct  presented  a very  dif- 
ferent phasis ; and  if  implicit  partisanship  w^ere  the  sole  merit 
of  a public  man,  his  movements,  at  this  and  other  junctures,  w^'ere 
far  too  independent  and  unharnessed  to  lay  claim  to  it.  But, 
however  useful  may  be  the  bond  of  Party,  there  are  occasions 
that  supersede  it ; and,  in  all  such  deviations  from  the  fidelity 
which  it  enjoins,  the  two  questions  to  be  asked  are — were  they, 
as  regarded  the  Public,  right  ? w'ere  they,  as  regarded  the  indi- 
vidual himself,  unpurchased  ? To  the  former  question,  in  the 
instance  of  Sheridan,  the  whole  country  responded  in  the  affirm- 
ative ; and  to  the  latter,  his  account  with  the  Treasury,  from 
first  to  last,  is  a sufficient  answer. 

Even,  however,  on  the  score  of  fidelity  to  Party,  when  we  re- 
collect that  he  more  than  once  submitted  to  some  of  the  worst 
martyrdoms  which  it  imposes — that  of  sharing  in  the  responsibil- 
ity of  opinions  from  which  he  dissented,  and  suffering  by  the  ill 
consequences  of  measures  against  which  he  had  protested  ; — when 
we  call  to  mind,  too,  that  during  the  Administration  of  Mr.  Ad- 
dington, though  agreeing  wholly  with  the  Ministry  and  differing 
wdth  the  Whigs,  he  even  then  refused  to  profit  by  a position  so 
favorable  to  his  interests,  and  submitted,  like  certain  religionists, 
from  a point  of  honor,  to  suffer  for  a faith  in  which  he  did  not 
believe — it  seems  impossible  not  to  concede  that  even  to  the  ob- 
ligations of  Party  he  was  as  faithful  as  could  be  expected  from  a 
spirit  that  so  far  outgrew  its  limits,  and,  in  paying  the  tax  of 
fidelity  while  he  asserted  the  freedom  of  dissent,  showed  that  he 
could  sacrifice  every  thing  to  it,  except  his  opinion.  Through  all 
these  occasional  variations,  too,  he  remained  a genuine  Whig  to 
the  last ; and,  as  I have  heard  one  of  his  own  party  happily  ex- 
press it,  was  “ like  pure  gold,  that  changes  color  in  the  fire,  but 
comes  out  unaltered.” 


* His  owii  words 


B24  M^JMOIRS  OF  l^HE  LIFE  OF  THE 

The  transaction  in  1812,  relative  to  the  Household,  was,  as  1 
have  already  said,  the  least  defensible  part  of  his  public  life. 
But  it  should  be  recollected  how  broken  he  was,  both  in  mind 
and  body,  at  that  period ; — his  resources  from  the  Theatre  at  an 
end, — the  shelter  of  Parliament  about  to  be  taken  from  over 
his  head  also, — and  old  age  and  sickness  coming  on,  as  every 
hope  and  comfort  vanished.  In  that  wreck  of  all  around  him, 
the  friendship  of  Carlton-House  was  the  last  asylum  left  to  his 
pride  and  his  hope  ; and  that  even  character  itself  should,  in  a 
too  zealous  moment,  have  been  one  of  the  sacrifices  offered  up 
arthe  shrine  that  protected  him,  is  a subject  more  of  deep  regret 
than  of  wonder.  The  poet  Cowley,  in  speaking  of  the  unpro- 
ductiveness of  those  pursuits  connected  with  Wit  and  Fancy, 
says  beautifully— 

Where  such  fairies  once  have  danced,  no  grass  will  ever  grow 

but,  unfortunately,  thorns  wi'll  grow  there ; — and  he  who  walks 
unsteadily  among  such  thorns  as  now  beset  the  once  enchanted 
path  of  Sheridan,  ought  not,  after  all,  to  be  very  severely  criti- 
cised. 

His  social  qualities  were,  unluckily  for  himself,  but  too  attrac- 
tive. In  addition  to  his  powers  of  conversation,  there  was  a 
well-bred  good-nature  in  his  manner,  as  well  as  a deference  to 
the  remarks  anfl  opinions  of  others,  the  want  of  which  very 
often,  in  distinguished  wits,  offends  the  self-love  of  their  hearers, 
and  makes  even  the  dues  of  admiration  that  they  levy  a sort  of 
‘‘  Droit  de  Seigneur^''  paid  with  unwillingness  and  distaste. 

No  one  was  so  ready  and  cheerful  in  promoting  the  amuse- 
ments of  a country-house ; and  on  a rural  excursion  he  was  al- 
ways the  soul  of  the  party.  His  talent  at  dressing  a little  dish 
was  often  put  in  requisition  on  such  occasions,  and  an  Irish  stew 
was  that  on  which  he  particularly  plumed  hiniself.  Some  friends 
of  his  recall  with  delight  a day  of  this  kind  which  they  passed 
with  him,  when  he  made  the  whole  party  act  over  the  Battle  of 
the  Pyramids  on  Marsden  Moor,  and  ordered  “ Captain”  Creevey 


HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  825 


and  others  upon  various  services,  against  the  cows  and  donkeys 
entrenched  in  the  ditches.  Being  of  so  playful  a disposition 
himself,  it  was  not  wonderful  that  he  should  take  such  pleasure 
in  the  society  of  children.  I have  been  told,  as  doubly  charac- 
teristic of  him,  that  he  has  often,  at  Mr.  Monckton’s,  kept  a 
chaise  and  four  waiting  half  the  day  for  him  at  the  door,  while 
he  romped  with  the  children. 

In  what  are  called  Verb  de  Societit^  or  drawing-room  verses,  he 
took  great  delight ; and  there  remain  among  his  papers  several 
sketches  of  these  trifles.  I once  heard  him  repeat  in  a ball- 
room, some  verses  which  he  had  lately  -written  on  Waltzing,  and 
of  which  I remember  the  followincr : 

O 

With  tranquil  step,  and  timid,  downcast  glance, 

Behold  the  well-pair’d  couple  now  advance. 

In  such  sweet  posture  our  first  Parents  mov’d, 

While,  hand  in  hand,  through  Eden’s  bowers  they  rov’d  ; 

Ere  yet  the  Devil,  with  promise  foul  and  false. 

Turn’d  their  poor  heads  and  taught  them  how  to  Walse. 

One  hand  grasps  hers,  the  other  holds  her  hip — 

* * * * * 

For  so  the  Law’s  laid  down  by  Baron  Trip.”* 

He  had  a sort  of  hereditary  fancy  for  difficult  trifling  in  poe- 
tiy  ; — particularly  for  that  sort,  which  consists  in  rhyming  to  the 
same  word  through  a long  string  of  couplets,  till  every  rhyme 
that  the  language  supplies  for  it  is  exhausted,  f The  following 
are  specimens  from  a poem  of  this  kind,  which  he  wrote  on  the 
loss  of  a lady’s  trunk  : — 

“My  Trunk! 

(7b  Anne.) 

‘^Have  you  heard,  my  dear  Anne,  how  my  spirits  are  sunk? 

Have  you  heard  of  the  cause  ? Oh,  the  loss  of  my  Trunk  I 
rom  exertion  or  firmness  I’ve  never  yet  slunk  ; 

But  my  fortitude’s  gone  with  the  loss  of  my  Trunk  I 

♦ This  gentleman,  whose  name  suits  so  aptly  as  legal  authority  on  the  subject  of  Waltz- 
ing, was  at  the  time  these  verses  were  written,  well  known  in  the  dancing  cireies. 

t Some  verset  by  General  Fitzpatrick  on  I,-rd  Holland’s  father  are  the  best  specimen 
that  I know  of  t lis  sort  of  ScHrzo. 


326 


MEMOIKS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Stout  Lucy,  my  maid,  is  a damsel  of  spunk  ; 

Yet  she  weeps  night  and  day  for  the  loss  of  my  Trunk  \ 

I’d  better  turn  nun,  and  coquet  with  a monk ; 

For  with  whom  can  I flirt  without  aid  from  my  Trunk ! 
****** 

Accurs’d  be  the  thief,  the  old  rascally  hunks  ; 

Who  rifles  the  fair,  and  lays  hands  on  their  Trunks ! 

He,  who  robs  the  King’s  stores  of  the  least  bit  of  junk, 

Is  hang’d — while  he’s  safe,  who  has  plunder’d  my  Trunk  ! 

* * * * * * 

There’s  a phrase  amongst  lawyers,  when  nunc-s  put  for  tunc; 

But,  tunc  and  nunc  both,  must  I grieve  for  my  T'unk ! 

Huge  leaves  of  that  great  commentator,  old  Brunck, 

Perhaps  was  the  paper  that  lin’d  my  poor  Trunk  I 
But  my  rhymes  are  all  out ; — for  I dare  not  use  st — k ;* 

’Twould  shock  Sheridan  more  than  the  loss  of  my  Trunks 

From  another  of  these  trifles,  (which,  no  doubt,  produced 
much  gaiety  at  the  breakfast-table,)  the  following  extracts  will 
be  sufficient: — 

‘‘  Muse,  assist  me  to  complain. 

While  I grieve  for  Lady  Jane, 

I ne’er  was  in  so  sad  a vein. 

Deserted  now  by  Lady  Jane, 

* * * * 

Lord  Petre’s  house  was  built  by  Payne — 

No  mortal  architect  made  Jane, 

If  hearts  had  windows,  through  the  pane 
Of  mine  you’d  see  sweet  Lady  Jane, 

* * * * ♦ 

At  breakfast  I could  scarce  refrain 
From  tears  at  missing  lovely /awe. 

Nine  rolls  I eat,  in  hopes  to  gain 

The  roll  that  might  have  fall’n  to  /awe,”  &c. 

Another  written  on  a Mr.  Bigg^  contains  some  ludicrous  coup- 
lets : — 

I own  he’s  not  fam’d  for  a reel  or  a jig, 

Tom  Sheridan  there  supasses  Tom  Bigg, — 

* He  had  a particular  horror  of  this  word. 


EIGHT  HOX.  EICHAED  Blil^'SLEY  SHERIDAN.  827 


For  lam’d  iu  one  thigh,  he  is  obliged  to  go  zig- 
Zag,  like  a crab — for  no  dancer  is  Bigg. 

Those  who  think  him  a coxcomb,  or  call  him  a prig, 

How  little  they  know  of  the  mind  of  my  Bigg  I 
Tho’  he  ne’er  can  be  mine,  Hope  will  catch  a twig — 

Two  Deaths — and  I yet  may  become  Mrs.  Bigg. 

Oh  give  me,  with  him,  but  a cottage  and  pig, 

And  content  I would  live  on  Beans,  Bacon,  and^i^^.” 

A few  more  of  these  light  productions  remain  among  his  pa- 
pers, but  their  wit  is  gone  with  those  for  whom  they  were  writ- 
ten ; — the  wings  of  Time  “ eripuereyocos.” 

Of  a very  different  description  are  the  following  striking  and 
spirited  fragments,  (which  ought  to  have  been  mentioned  in  a 
former  part  of  this  work,)  written  by  him,  apparently,  about  the 
year  1794,  and  addressed  to  the  Naval  heroes  of  that  period,  to 
console  them  for  the  neglect  they  experienced  from  the  Govern- 
ment, while  ribands  and  titles  were  lavished  on  the  Whig  Seced- 
ers  * — 

Never  mind  them,  brave  black  Dick, 

Though  they’ve  played  thee  such  a trick — 

Damn  their  ribands  and  their  garters, 

Get  you  to  your  post  and  quarters. 

Look  upon  the  azure  sea, 

There’s  a Sailor’s  Taffety ! 

Mark  the  Zodiac’s  radiant  bow. 

That’s  a collar  fit  for  HOWE  !— 

And,  then  P— tl — d’s  brighter  far. 

The  Pole  shall  furnish  you  a Star  !* 

Damn  their  ribands  and  their  garters, 

Get  you  to  your  post  and  quarters, 

Think,  on  what  things  are  ribands  showered — 

The  two  Sir  Georges — Y and  H ! 

Look  to  what  rubbish  Stars  will  stick. 

To  Dicky  H n and  Johnny  D k ! 

♦ This  reminds  me  of  a happy  application  which  he  made,  upon  a subsequent  occasion 
’wo  lines  of  Dryden  : — 

“ When  men  like  Erskine  go  astray, 

The  stars  are  more  in  fault  qion  they.” 


S28 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


Would  it  be  for  your  country’s  good, 

That  you  might  pass  for  Alec.  H d, 

Or,  perhaps, — and  worse  by  half — 

To  be  mistaken  for  Sir  R h ! 

Would  you,  like  C , pine  with  spleen, 

Because  your  bit  of  silk  was  green  ? 

Would  you,  like  C , change  your  side, 

To  have  your  silk  new  dipt  and  dyed  ? — 

Like  him  exclaim,  ‘ My  riband’s  hue 

Was  green — and  now,  by  Heav’ns ! ’tis  blue,’ 

And,  like  him — stain  your  honor  too  ? 

Damn  their  ribands  and  their  garters. 

Get  you  to  your  post  and  quarters. 

On  the  foes  of  Britain  close. 

While  B k garters  his  Dutch  hose, 

And  cons,  with  spectacles  on  nose, 

(While  to  battle  you  advance,) 

His  ‘ Honi  soit  qui  mal  y pense,"^  ” 

* ♦ * « 

It  has  been  seen,  by  a letter  of  his  sister  already  given,  that 
when  young,  he  was  generally  accounted  handsome  ; but,  in  later 
years,  his  eyes  were  the  only  testimonials  of  beauty  that  re- 
mained to  him.  It  was,  indeed,  in  the  upper  part  of  his  face  that 
the  Spirit  of  the  man  chiefly  reigned; — the  dominion  of  the 
world  and  the  Senses  being  rather  strongly  marked  out  in  the 
lower.  In  his  person,  he  was  above  the  middle  size,  and  his 
general  make  was,  as  I have  already  said,  robust  and  well  pro- 
portioned. It  is  remarkable  that  his  arms,  though  of  powerful 
strength,  were  thin,  and  appeared  by  no  means  muscular.  His 
hands  were  small  and  delicate ; and  the  following  couplet,  writ- 
ten on  a cast  from  one  of  them,  very  livelily  enumerates  both 
its  physical  and  moral  qualities : — 

‘‘  Good  at  a Fight,  but  better  at  a Play, 

Godlike  in  giving,  but — the  Devil  to  Pay !” 

Among  his  halnts,  it  may  not  be  uninteresting  to  know  that 
his  hours  of  composition,  as  long  as  he  continued  to  be  an  author, 
were  at  night,  and  that  he  required  a profusion  of  lights  around 


RIGHT  HOK.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  329 


him  while  he  wrote.  Wine,  too,  was  one  of  his  favorite  helps  to 
inspiration ; — “ If  the  thought,  (he  would  say,)  is  slow'  to  come,  a 
glass  of  good  wine  encourages  it,  and,  when  it  does  come,  a glass 
of  good  wine  re\vards  it.” 

Having  taken  a cursory  view  of  his  Literary,  Political,  and 
Social  qualities,  it  remains  for  me  to  say  a few  words  upon  that 
most  important  point  of  all,  his  Moral  character. 

There  are  few"  persons,  as  we  have  seen,  to  whose  kind  and 
affectionate  conduct,  in  some  of  the  most  interesting  relations  of 
domestic  life,  so  many  strong  and  honorable  testimonies  remain. 
The  pains  he  took  to  win  back  the  estranged  feelings  of  his  father, 
and  the  filial  tenderness  with  which  he  repaid  long  years  of  pa- 
rental caprice,  show'  a heart  that  had,  at  least,  set  out  by  the 
right  road,  however,  in  after  years,  it  may  have  missed  the  way. 
!^|phe  enthusiastic  love  which  his  sister  bore  him,  and  retained  un- 
blighted by  distance  or  neglect,  is  another  proof  of  the  influence 
of  his  amiable  feelings,  at  that  period  of  life  when  he  was  as  yet 
unspoiled  by  the  wmrld.  We 'have  seen  the  romantic  fondness 
v/hich  he  preserved  towards  the  first  Mrs.  Sheridan,  even  while 
doing  bis  utmost,  and  in  vain,  to  extinguish  the  same  feeling  in 
her.  With  the  second  wife,  a course,  nearly  similar,  was  run  ; 
— the  same  “ scatterings  and  eclipses”  of  affection,  from  the 
irregularities  and  vanities,  in  wblch  he  continued  to  indulge,  but 
the  same  hold  kept  of  each  other’s  hearts  to  the  last.  Her  early 
letters  to  him  breathe  a passion  little  short  of  idolatry,  and  her 
devoted  attentions  beside  his  death-bed  showed  that  the  essential 
part  of  the  feeling  still  remained. 

To  claim  an  exemption  for  frailties  and  irregularities  on  the 
score  of  genius,  w"hile  there  are  such  names  as  Milton  and  New- 
ton on  record,  were  to  be  blind  to  the  example  wPich  these  and 
other  great  men  have  left,  of  the  grandest  intellectual  powers 
combined  wdth  the  most  virtuous  lives.  But,  for  the  bias  given 
early  to  the  mind  by  education  and  circumstances,  even  the  least 
charitable  may  be  inclined  to  make  large  allowances.  We  have 
seen  how  idly  the  young  days  of  Sheridan  were  wasted — how 
soon  h^  w"as  left,  (in  the  words  of  the  Prophet,)  ‘‘  to  dw'ell  care- 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


£^80 

lessly,”  and  with  what  an  undisciplined  temperament  he  was 
thrown  upon  the  world,  to  meet  at  every  step  that  never-failing 
spring  of  temptation,  which,  like  the  fatal  fountain  in  the  Garden 
of  Armida,  sparkles  up  for  ever  in  the  pathway  of  such  a 
man  : — 

‘ Un  fonte  sorge  in  lei,  che  vaghe  e monde 
Ha  Pacque  si,  che  i riguardanti  asseta, 

Ma  dentro  ai  freddi  suoi  cristalli  asconde 
Di  tosco  estran  malvagita  secreta.” 

Even  marriage,  which  is  among  the  sedatives  of  other  men’s 
lives,  but  formed  a part  of  the  romance  of  his.  The  very  at- 
tractions of  his  wife  increased  his  danger,  by  doubling,  as  it  were 
the  power  of  the  world  over  him,  and  leading  him  astray  by  her 
light  as  well  as  by  his  own.  Had  his  talents,  even  then,  been  sub- 
jected to  the  manege  of  a profession,  there  was  still  a chance  tHiif 
business,  and  the  round  of  regularity  which  it  requires,  might 
have  infused  some  spirit  of  order  into  his  life.  But  the  Stage — 
his  glory  and  his  ruin — opened  upon  him  ; and  the  property  of 
which  it  made  him  master  was  exactly  of  that  treacherous  kind^ 
which  not  only  deceives  a man  himself,  but  enables  him  to  de- 
ceive others,  and  thus  combined  all  that  a person  of  his  care- 
lessness and  ambition  had  most  to  dread.  An  uncertain  income, 
which,  by  eluding  calculation,  gives  an  excuse  for  improvidence,* 

* How  feelingly  aware  he  was  of  this  great  source  of  all  his  misfortunes  appears  from 
a passage  in  the  able  speech  which  he  delivered  before  the  Chancellor,  as  Counsel  in  his 
own  case,  in  the  year  1799  or  1800  : — 

“It  is  a great  disadvantage,  relatively  speaking,  to  any  man,  and  especially  to  a very 
careless,  and  a very  sanguine  man,  to  have  possessed  an  uncertain  and  fluctuating  in- 
come. That  disadvantage  is  greatly  increased,  if  the  person  so  circumstanced  has  con- 
ceived himself  to  be  in  some  degree  entitled  to  presume  that,  by  the  exertion  of  his  own 
talents,  he  may  at  pleasure  increase  that  income — thereby  becoming  induced  to  make 
promises  to  himself  which  he  may  afterwards  fail  to  fulfil. 

“ Occasional  excess  and  frequent  unpunctuality  will  be  the  natural  consequences  of 
such  a situation.  But,  my  Lord,  to  exceed  an  ascertained  and  limited  income,  I hold  to 
be  a very  different  matter.  In  that  situation  I have  placed  myself,  (not  since  the  present 
unexpected  contention  arose,  for  since  then  I would  have  adopted  no  arrangements,)  but 
months  since,  by  my  Deed  of  Trust  to  Mr.  Adam,  and  in  that  situation  I shall  remain  un- 
til every  debt  on  earth,  in  which  the  Theatre  or  I am  concerned,  shall  be  fully  and  fairly 
discharged.  Till  then  I will  live  on  what  remains  to  me — preserving  that  spirit  of  un 
daunted  independence,  which,  both  as  a public  and  a private  nr.an,  I trust,  I have  hilh 
erlo  maintained.’^ 


BIGHT  HON.  RICHABD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  331 


and,  still  more  fatal,  a facility  of  raising  money,  by  \N  hich  the  * 
lesson,  that  the  pressure  of  distress  brings  with  it,  is  evaded  till 
it  comes  too  late  to  be  of  use — such  was  the  dangerous  power 
put  into  his  hands,  in  his  six-and-twentieth  year,  and  amidst  the 
intoxication  of  as  deep  and  quick  draughts  of  fame  as  ever  young 
author  quatfed.  Scarcely  had  the  zest  of  this  excitement  begun 
to  wear  off,  when  he  was  suddenly  transported  into  another 
sphere,  where  successes  still  more  flattering  to  his  vanity  awaited 
him.  Without  any  increase  of  means,  he  became  the  companion 
and  friend  of  the  first  Nobles  and  Princes,  and  paid  the  usual 
tax  of  such  unequal  friendships,  by,  in  the  end,  losing  them  and 
ruining  himself  The  vicissitudes  of  a political  life,  and  those 
deceitful  vistas  into  office  that  w’^ere  for  ever  opening  on  his 
party,  made  his  hopes  as  fluctuating  and  uncertain  as  his  means, 
and  encouraged  the  same  delusive  calculations  on  both.  He 
seemed,  at  every  new  turn  of  affairs,  to  be  on  the  point  of  re- 
deeming himself ; and  the  confidence  of  others  in  his  resources 
was  no  less  fatal  to  him  than  his  own,  as  it  but  increased  the  fa- 
cilities of  ruin  that  surrounded  him. 

Such  a career  as  this — so  shaped  towards  wrong,  so  inevitably 
devious — it  is  impossible  to  regard  otherwise  than  with  the  most 
charitable  allowances.  It  was  one  long  paroxysm  of  excitement 
— no  pause  for  thought — no  inducements  to  prudence — the  attrac- 
tions all  drawing  the  wrong  way,  and  a Voice,  like  that  which 
Bossuet  describes,  crying  inexorably  from  behind  him  “ On,  on  !”* 
Instead  of  wondering  at  the  wreck  that  followed  all  this,  our  only 
surprise  should  be,  that  so  much  remained  uninjured  through  the 
trial, — that  his  natural  good  feelings  should  have  struggled  to  the 
last  with  his  habits,  and  his  sense  of  all  that  was  right  in  conduct 
so  long  survived  his  ability  to  practise  it. 

Numerous,  however,  as  were  the  causes  that  concurred  to  dis- 
organize his  moral  character,  in  his  pecuniary  embarrassment  lay 

* “ La  loi  est  prononcee  : il  faut  avancer  touiours.  Je  voudrois  retourner  sur  mes  pas  : 

* Marche,  Marche  !’  Un  poids  invincible  nous  entraine  : il  faul  sans  cesse  avancer  vers 
le  precipice.  On  se  console  pourtant,  parce  que  de  terns  en  ten)s  on  rencontre  des  objets 
qui  nous  divertissent,  des  eaux  coiirantes,  des  fleurs  qui  passent.  On  voudroit  arreter  ; 

‘ Marche,  Marche  P ’’ — Sermon  s>ur  la  Resurrection. 


832 


MEMOIRS  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 


the  source  of  those  blemishes,  that  discredited  him  most  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world.  He  might  have  indulged  his  vanity  and  his 
passions,  like  others,  with  but  little  loss  of  reputation,  if  the  con- 
sequence of  these  indulgences  had  not  been  obtruded  upon  obser- 
vation in  the  forbidding  form  of  debts  and  distresses.  So  much 
did  his  friend  Richardson,  who  thoroughly  knew  him,  consider  his 
whole  character  to  have  been  influenced  by  the  straitened  circum- 
stances in  w'hich  he  was  placed,  that  he  used  often  to  say,  “ If  an 
enchanter  could,  by  the  touch  of  his  wand,  endow  Sheridan  sud- 
denly with  fortune,  he  would  instantly  transform  him  into  a most 
honorable  and  moral  man.”  As  some  corroboration  of  this  opi- 
nion, I must  say  that,  in  the  course  of  the  inquiries  w^hich  my 
task  of  biographer  imposed  upon  me,  1 have  found  all  who  were 
ever  engaged  in  pecuniary  dealings  with  him,  not  excepting  those 
who  suffered  most  severely  by  his  irregularities,  (among  which 
class  I may  cite  the  respected  name  of  Mr.  Hammersley,)  una- 
nimous in  expressing  their  conviction  that  he  always  meant  fairly 
and  honorably  ; and  that  to  the  inevitable  pressure  of  circum- 
stances alone,  any  failure  that  occurred  in  his  engagements  was 
to  be  imputed. 

There  cannot,  indeed,  be  a stronger  exemplification  of  the 
truth,  that  a want  of  regularity^  becomes,  itself,  a vice,  from  the 

* His  improvidence  in  every  thing  connected  with  money  was  most  remarkable.  He 
would  frequently  be  obliged  to  stop  on  his  journeys,  for  want  of  the  means  of  getting  on, 
and  to  remain  living  expensively  at  an  inn,  till  a remittance  could  reach  him.  His  let- 
ters to  the  treasurer  of  the  theatre  on  these  occasions  were  generally  headed  with  the 
words  “Money-bound.”  A friend  of  his  told  me,  that  one  morning,  while  waiting  for 
him  in  his  study,  he  cast  his  eyes  over  the  heap  of  unopened  letters  that  lay  upon  the  ta- 
ble, and,  seeing  one  or  two  with  coronets  on  the  seals,  said  to  Mr.  Westley,  the  treasurer, 
who  was  present,  “I  see  we  are  all  treated  alike.”  Mr.  Westley  then  informed  him 
that  he  had  once  found,  on  looking  over  this  table,  a letter  which  he  had  himself  sent,  a 
few  weeks  before,  to  Mr.  Sheridan,  enclosing  a ten-pound  note,  to  release  him  from  some 
inn,  but  which  Sheiidan,  having  raised  the  supplies  in  some  other  way,  had  never  thought 
of  opening.  The  prudent  treasurer  took  away  the  letter,  and  reserved  the  enclosure  for 
some  future  exigence. 

Among  instances  of  his  inattention  to  letters,  the  following  is  mentioned.  Going  one 
day  to  the  bankirg-house,  where  be  was  accustomed  to  receive  his  salary,  as  Receiver 
of  Cornwall,  and  where  they  sometimes  accommodated  him  with  small  sums  before  the 
regular  lijne  of  payment,  he  asked,  with  all  due  humility,  whether  they  could  oblige  him 
with  the  loan  of  fw'enty  pounds.  “ Cerainly,  Sir,”  said  the  clerk, — “would  you  like 
any  more— fifty,  or  a hundred?”  Slieridan,  all  .smiles  and  gratitude,  answered  that  a 
hundred  pounds  would  be  of  the  greatest  convenience  to  him.  “Perhaps  you  wouid  like 


MGHT  HOK.  RICHAKD  BRINSLEir  SHERlBAK.  33B 


manifold  evils  to  which  it  leads,  than  the  whole  history  of  Mr. 
Sheridan’s  pecuniary  transactions.  So  far  from  never  paying  his 
debts,  as  is  often  asserted  of  him,  he  was,  in  fact,  always  paying ; 
— but  in  such  a careless  and  indiscriminate  manner,  and  with  so 
little  justice  to  himself  or  others,  as  often  to  leave  the  respectable 
creditor  to  suffer  for  his  patience,  while  the  fraudulent  dun  was 
paid  two  or  three  times  over.  Never  examining  accounts  nor 
referring  to  receipts,  he  seemed  as  if,  (in  imitation  of  his  own 
Charles,  preferring  generosity  to  justice,)  he  wished  to  make 
'paying  as  like  as  possible  to  giving.  Interest,  too,  with  its  usual, 
silent  accumulation,  swelled  every  debt ; and  I have  found  seve- 
ral instances  among  his  accounts  where  the  interest  upon  a small 
sum  had  been  suffered  to  increase  till  it  outgrew  the  principal ; — 
minima  pars  ipsa  puella  sui.^^ 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  however,  his  debts  were  by  no  means 
so  considerable  as  has  been  supposed.  In  the  year  1808,  he  em- 
powered Sir  R.  Berkely,  Mr.  Peter  Moore,  and  Mr.  Frederick 
Homan,  by  power  of  attorney,  to  examine  into  his  pecuniary 
affairs  and  take  measures  for  the  discharge  of  all  claims  upon 
him.  These  gentlemen,  on  examination,  found  that  his  bond  fide 
debts  were  about  ten  thousand  pounds,  while  his  apparent  debts 
amounted  to  five  or  six  times  as  much.  Whether  from  conscien- 
tiousness  or  from  pride,  however,  he  would  not  suffer  any  of  the 
claims  to  be  contested,  but  said  that  the  demands  were  all  fair, 
and  must  be  paid  just  as  they  were  stated  ; — though  it  was  well 
known  that  many  of  them  had  been  satisfied  more  than  once. 
These  gentlemen,  accordingly,  declined  to  proceed  any  further 
with  their  commission. 

On  the  same  false  feeling  he  acted  in  1813-14,  when  the  bal- 
ance due  on  the  sale  of  his  theatrical  property  was  paid  him, 
in  a certain  number  of  Shares.  When  applied  to  by  any  cred- 

to  take  two  hundred,  or  three?’'  said  the  clerk.  At  every  increase  of  the  sum,  the  sur- 
prise of  the  borrower  increased.  “Have  not  you  then  received  our  letter?”  said  the 
clerk  on  which  it  turned  out  that,  in  consequence  of  the  falling  in  of  some  fine,  a sum 
of  tv/elve  hundred  pounds  had  been  lately  placed  to  the  credit  of  the  Receiver-General, 
and  that,  from  not  having  opened  the  letter  written  to  apprise  him,  he  had  been  left  in 
ignorance  of  his  good  luck. 


834  MEMOIRS  OP  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 

itor,  he  would  give  him  one  of  these  Shares,  and  allowing  his 
claim  entirely  on  his  own  showing,  leave  him  to  pay  himself 
out  of  it,  and  refund  the  balance.  Thus  irregular  at  all  times, 
even  when  most  wishing  to  be  right,  he  deprived  honesty  itself 
of  its  merit  and  advantages ; and,  where  he  happened  to  be 
just,  left  it  doubtful,  (as  Locke  says  of  those  religious  people, 
who  believe  right  by  chance,  without  examination,)  “ whether 
even  the  luckiness  of  the  accident  excused  the  irregularity  of 
the  proceeding.”^ 

The  consequence,  however,  of  this  continual  paying  was  that 
the  number  of  his  creditors  gradually  diminished,  and  that  ulti- 
mately the  amount  of  his  debts  was,  taking  all  circumstances 
into  account,  by  no  means  considerable.  Two  years  after  his 
death  it  appeared  by  a list  made  up  by  his  Solicitor  from  claims 
sent  in  to  him,  in  consequence  of  an  advertisement  in  the  news- 
papers, that  the  hona  fide  debts  amounted  to  about  five  thousand 
five  hundred  pounds. 

If,  therefore,  we  consider  his  pecuniary  irregularities  in  refer- 
ence to  the  injury  that  they  inflicted  upon  others,  the  quantum 
of  evil  for  which  he  is  responsible  becomes,  after  all,  not  so 
great.  There  are  many  persons  in  the  enjoyment  of  fair  char- 
acters in  the  world,  who  would  be  happy  to  have  no  deeper  en- 
croachment upon  the  property  of  others  to  answer  for;  and 
who  may  well  wonder  by  what  unlucky  management  Sheridan 
could  contrive  to  found  so  extensive  a reputation  for  bad  pay 
upon  so  small  an  amount  of  debt. 

Lot  it  never,  too,  be  forgotten,  in  estimating  this  part  of  his 
character,  that  had  he  been  less  consistent  and  disinterested  in 
his  public  conduct,  he  might  have  commanded  the  means  of  be- 
ing independent  and  respectable  in  private.  He  might  have 
died  a rich  apostate,  instead  of  closing  a life  of  patriotism  in 
beggary.  He  might,  (to  use  a fine  expression  of  his  own,) 
have  “ hid  his  head  in  a coronet,  ’ instead  of  earning  for  it  but 
the  barren  wreath  of  public  gratitude.  While,  therefore,  we 
admire  the  great  sacrifice  that  he  made,  let  us  be  tolerant  to  the 

* Chapter  on  Reason. 


HIGHT  HON.  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN.  335 


errors  and  imprudences  which 
lecting  how  vain  it  is  to  look 
world,  rest  satisfied  with  the 
the  Saint. 


it  entailed  upon  him  ; and,  recoh 
for  any  thing  unalloyed  in  this 
Martyr,  without  requiring,  also, 


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